[fanfic] A Little Knowledge ... Part 10
Title: A Little Knowledge … Part 10
Author: nike2422
Rating: PG-13
Character(s)/Pairing(s): America, France, England
Warnings: France teaches America the meaning of the phrase ‘overpaid, oversexed and over there;’ also, a drunk, crying England appears.
Summary: France and America have England cornered with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. All there’s left to do now is get stinking drunk and surrender.
Time Frame: American Revolution
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9
Older Stuff
“Now there’s a saucy vixen.”
France directed America’s attention to the trio of females giggling and waving their fans in front of their faces. “Which one’s the saucy vixen?” America asked
“Does it matter?” France grinned up at the boy. Would he ever stop growing? “How much money do you have?”
“None, ”America answered, “Is that a problem?”
“In situations like this, it’s an utter calamity.” France said, pulling a small purse out of his pocket. He counted out half a dozen silver coins and put them in America’s hand. “Always have a little money with you; not too much, or the lady might have friends waiting to rob you. Men in uniform are irresistible and it never hurts to have some money to spend. Nothing too expensive of course, candy or inexpensive but necessary items that make life during wartime bearable, and the lady’s more obliging to want to be with you.
“So, having money to buy girls things so they want to spend time with you is a part of war?”
“Absolument.” France laughed. “There’s more to war than fighting and killing.”
America blushed when the pretty redhead in the group winked at him. “I had no idea, war’s more complicated than I thought.”
“I think the vixen likes you. Time to put that money to good use mon cher.”
America suddenly felt scared, “What do I do France?”
France turned and smiled, “You like to fish right?”
“Sure I do!” America answered grinning.
“Alright then, think of this as a new way to fish. I call it ‘trolling for yoni’ and it’s time to set your hook.”
The weeks since France had joined America in the war against England had been the most educational and enjoyable America could remember in a long time. France had immediately taken on the role of big brother and began teaching America about the finer points of warfare that were just as important as drilling, how to fire a weapon and marching. When they were relieved from duty they spent their time in more fun pursuits; such as enjoying the company of local ladies.
America found himself with time to spend with France thanks to recently being moved up the ranks to lieutenant. He received the field commission after the battle of Green Spring, when Lafayette tried to attack what he thought was a small detachment of Cornwallis’ men, only to find his entire army in hiding. The continentals were cut off from escape when the order for a bayonet charge was called. At first it looked as though the British line would hold, but America had run forward and run the officer leading the British resistance through with his bayonet, and the rest of the line caved.
He now wore an officer’s uniform, complete with a navy blue coat with red facings. Since they were in Virginia, the only uniforms available were the southern; continentals from the north wore white facings on their dark blue coats. America didn’t mind, it meant he got to spend more time with France.
It was dark by the time they made their way back to camp. It became obvious something had happened by the charged atmosphere among the troops. “We need to get to headquarters.” France said. They both ran through the rows of tents until they came to the small farmhouse being used by the commanders.
They arrived at the doorway of the house and found a fellow officer standing there. He turned to see who was coming out of the dark and smiled at them. “Washington’s on his way here.” He said.
The officer’s words stopped both countries in their tracks. “What happened with the attack on New York?” France asked. Behind him America’s eyes grew wide at the news.
“That’s what Washington wanted everyone to think. Now he and Rochambeau are on their way here. Left a few soldiers to protest Congress demanding a months pay. They even paid them to make it look good! But now DeGrasse has Cornwallis and the Brits cut off from their escape route out of York by sea, we’re going to cut them off by land.”
“What is Cornwallis doing?” France asked.
“Building fortifications around the town and waiting.”
“This is wonderful!” France exclaimed, turning to look at America. “Do you know what this means?”
America had a slight smile on his face, “That the war could be over?”
“Oui!” France couldn’t hide his excitement.
“It’s true,” the young officer in the doorway, said. “And now that Spain has cleared the Gulf coast of England’s navy, and France’s navy has cut off Cornwallis here, the fight should go out of England pretty quick.”
A wicked smirk flickered across France’s face, “Interesting choice of words.”
The way France spoke made America blush.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“You must have patience America, a siege is a very different type of battle.” France tried to comfort him, but he could see the young nation was irritated with the time they had already spent waiting.
“But all we do is dig dig dig and haul guns while England shoots at us!” America pouted. They’d been there for weeks spending every day building trenches to move supplies and get closer to the fortifications England had built around the town. Every day while they dug in the early autumn Virginia sunlight bullets whizzed over their heads. Impatient with the progress, America had grabbed a shovel, stripped to the waist and joined his men, hoping another pair of hands would make the work go faster.
“Let them shoot, they’re using up their ammunition with no chance of being resupplied. The trenches are necessary to move men closer to the redoubts. Don’t worry, we are almost ready, and then the real fun begins.” France couldn’t help but admire how tanned America had become. “And the work is helping you keep fit I might add.”
America frowned at France, who was almost leering at him. “You’re as bad as von Steuben, you know that?”
“If I were as bad as von Steuben I would have stopped treating you like a little brother a long time ago!” France laughed.
America dumped some water on a clean rag and wiped his sweaty neck. “Oh so there’s a time limit on how long you behave yourself?”
Before France could retort a rider cantered up to them and shouted, “Washington’s ready, we begin at five o’clock tonight!” As he rode away France stood and said, “It looks as though the waiting is over.”
America finished washing up and grabbed his shirt. “About time! We need to get to Washington.
“Non, America this is where we part ways, I to the left with Rochambeau and you to the right. If all goes well God willing we will meet in the middle soon.”
America shrugged into his shirt and faced France, extending his hand. “Thank you, for everything you’ve done. I wish Spain were here too so I could shake his hand.”
“You will get your chance.” France said, accepting America’s hand and giving it a firm shake. “Au Revoir!” He said, waving as he walked away to join the French forces. America finished dressing, grabbed his sidearm and ran in the direction of Washington.
America joined the other officers standing with Washington next to the first of the long line of cannons waiting and ready; artillerymen stood ready next to their guns. America listened as Washington ordered the artillery to fire all night long non-stop, so the British didn’t have a chance to make repairs in the dark. As the young country listened to Washington speak, he couldn’t help but admire the very tall man and the devotion everyone gave him. France always like to tease America for growing tall, but George Washington would always be the tallest man in the room, and not just physically.
One of the artillerymen walked up and handed Washington a linstock. General Washington fired the first cannon; the officers raised their hats and cheered.
England scowled in between sips of tepid, weak tea. It was already five o’clock and they had only been served tea 20 minutes earlier. He rattled the teacup on the saucer and dropped it on the table. “I say, this is abysmal.”
“They cut the rations again.” Another officer murmured, in between bites of stale biscuit.
“I realize this is war, and they cut the rations again, but they could at least have the decency to serve it on time!” England’s scowl deepened. “We need to maintain some semblance of civilized society, even if we are in Virginia.”
Another officer shook his head. “It really is scandalous how bad things are getting, soon we won’t even have tea to drink for tea.”
“At least Washington and Rochambeau have been quiet most of the day.”
England glared at the idiot who spoke, the other officers also looked up at each other, holding teacups in mid air. The familiar whistle was faint at first, but only one thing made a noise like that in wartime.
“Hit the deck!” England screamed as the cannonball crashed through the wall and splintered the table into matchsticks. The men dove in any direction they could for cover as the cannonball exploded and sent shrapnel in all directions. Outside men shouted in alarm as they scrambled to defend themselves from the constant onslaught that came from opposite directions.
England coughed in the smoke as he stood up surrounded by the mess that had once been a comfortable dining room. The officer who had spoke right before they were hit was lying on the floor bleeding badly. The rest of the officers got up and ran to get out of the burning room before it was hit again.
Outside officers barked orders at the men as they grabbed everything they could and ran for shelter. England grabbed one officer by the arm and shouted, “Get everyone in the trenches now! We need to refortify redoubts nine and ten before morning to keep them from advancing on the city! Do it now!”
The officer ran off to carry out England’s orders. England’s angry eyes stared in the direction he knew the Americans were holding and watched another cannonball come in fast and close. It crashed in through the window that had once been his quarters and raised the roof, sending shingles and glass into the street below. England ducked and covered his face inside his arm, then lowered it to look out again into the advancing dusk and the fires of the American artillery in the distance. “Bloody hell, no civilized society at all.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Haha! You missed!” America shouted at France as the artillerymen loaded another round into the smoking cannon.
“Merde!” France swore, shouting in angry French at the men to take better aim.
The American cannon fired, and a cheer went out as the bricks of the chimney they had been taking target practice on disintegrated into dust.
America and the artillerymen cheered, “Beat that one!” America laughed, pounding the fireman on the back.
“Fine, FINE!” France shouted back, grinning madly as his eyes scoured what was left of the town; “The house on the left, second story, the window on the right, has one pane of glass left!”
“I see it!” America said and both countries’ artilleries moved quickly to reload and prepare to fire. Just as France had promised, once the combined efforts of the French and Americans fought to beat back the English on redoubts nine and ten, they had met at the middle. When America had seen France standing there smiling at him he swept him up in a bear hug so tight the other country’s face turned red from lack of air. They had moved artillery onto the captured fortifications and aimed them at the town; now laying cannon fire from three directions and just about putting the town in ruins. The French and American artilleries were now having a friendly competition to take out the last of England’s defenses.
France was about to give the order to fire when movement at the pulverized fortification gate surrounding the town opened. A single English officer waving a white handkerchief came into view. “Hold on France!” America shouted, holding up his hand to stop him from lighting the powder.
France looked up and saw the officer walking slowly towards them, waving the handkerchief frantically as he stumbled. “It’s over.” He said.
America looked at France, and then looked down at the man shouting up at them that he had a message to deliver to General Washington.
“America, this honor is yours. Blindfold the man and take him to Washington immediately.”
France smiled at America’s open expression - shock, joy - as he jumped up and ran down to the Redcoat standing there. He pulled the handkerchief out of the man’s shaking hand and tied it over his face, then led him in the direction of Washington’s headquarters.
Looking out over the remains of the wall, England caught his breath when he saw America run out and blindfold the officer, then lead him away. He couldn’t stop the sob that escaped from his throat as he wiped his eyes on his sleeve. He raised the whiskey bottle to his lips, and then realized it was already empty. England swore and threw it on the ground, then walked over to the wooden box the men had found in the cellar of a leveled tavern and grabbed a full one. He slid down against the wall and pulled out the cork, pleading eyes looking up to heaven.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
They had stood there for hours, staring at each other waiting for Cornwallis to appear and lead his troops out to officially surrender. France had taken the opportunity to make funny faces at America, who has just about bitten through his bottom lip to keep from laughing out loud. His eyes pleaded with France for relief, but the other country’s eyes danced as he went cross-eyed, watching America’s face turn bright red. A drum was heard and everyone snapped back to attention. The gate opened wide and the invincible British army marched out to formally surrender.
Their uniforms were clean, but America still couldn’t stop himself from looking at France in shock when he saw the men come out. Some didn’t bother to march in formation, just strolled casually along. Some men were weeping openly, and others stumbled as if they were drunk. When America caught sight of England, his eyes grew wide as he saw him march, or stumble more like, towards him. He looked straight ahead, but it was obvious he was incredibly drunk. At one point he had to reach out and grab the shoulder of the soldier marching next to him and America realized that it was then England had seen him standing there. He kept marching/stumbling as he went past, looking straight ahead. America watched him move away not sure what emotion he felt at that moment.
Then he heard the tune the fifers played as the redcoats made their way to the field designated to ground arms. It was a song England had taught him and Canada when they were both little:
If buttercups buzz'd after the bee,
If boats were on land, churches on sea,
If ponies rode men and if grass ate the cows,
And cats should be chased into holes by the mouse,
If the mamas sold their babies
To the gypsies for half a crown;
If summer were spring and the other way round,
Then all the world would be upside down.
America felt himself transported far away and he suddenly felt very small again. He could hear Canada’s laughter at the silly words as England sang them; could feel the pull of his arms as he spun them both around in time with the tempo of the song.
Suddenly he was snapped back to the present when he heard the angry shouts of the British commander as he came forward telling the men to ground their arms properly. America saw a few men continue to violently toss their muskets on the pile as if trying to break them, but after that the men began laying them down properly again before returning to their lazy formations and marching back towards town. When England reached the point to ground arms, he unsheathed his sword, held it in his hand for a few moments, swaying considerably back and forth, before casually tossing it down as if he were throwing trash onto a midden. He began his drunken meandering back, passing America by again without making eye contact, except this time there were tears streaming down his face. America made eye contact with France, who looked very cheerful as he winked at the younger country.
The French and American armies were dismissed and they broke formation. France walked forward and put his hand on America’s shoulder. “He’s three sheets to the wind my friend, don’t let his tears bother you too much, besides you haven’t been fair about any of this.”
“I haven’t been fair?” America asked, an incredulous look on his face.
“Oui, you silly boy, I told you this once before, you’re supposed to let England win because that is only fair.”
America smirked at France, then watched as the last of the redcoats disappeared behind the decimated fortification walls to their new prison camp. “We outnumbered him two to one, he had his chance.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Author’s note: It’s tradition and not historical fact that the song the British drum and fifers played when they surrendered at Yorktown was “The World Turned Upside Down.” I found one eyewitness account that said the song they played was very sad and mournful. You can listen here and decide:
I read five different eyewitness accounts of the siege of Yorktown, and they all told a very interesting story. One man remarked about how the British grounded their arms as if trying to break them, and how they were very unprofessional and unsolder like. Another young man named Benedict Gilbert wrote letters to his parents and to his friend who was also serving in the continental army at the time. The letter home complained about the lack of money to buy things like shoes and stockings, and the letter to his friend complained about the lack of money to entertain girls with. Yes, towards the end of the siege when Cornwallis was out of options the French and Americans actually had some good-natured competitive target practice with the artillery.
Author: nike2422
Rating: PG-13
Character(s)/Pairing(s): America, France, England
Warnings: France teaches America the meaning of the phrase ‘overpaid, oversexed and over there;’ also, a drunk, crying England appears.
Summary: France and America have England cornered with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. All there’s left to do now is get stinking drunk and surrender.
Time Frame: American Revolution
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9
Older Stuff
“Now there’s a saucy vixen.”
France directed America’s attention to the trio of females giggling and waving their fans in front of their faces. “Which one’s the saucy vixen?” America asked
“Does it matter?” France grinned up at the boy. Would he ever stop growing? “How much money do you have?”
“None, ”America answered, “Is that a problem?”
“In situations like this, it’s an utter calamity.” France said, pulling a small purse out of his pocket. He counted out half a dozen silver coins and put them in America’s hand. “Always have a little money with you; not too much, or the lady might have friends waiting to rob you. Men in uniform are irresistible and it never hurts to have some money to spend. Nothing too expensive of course, candy or inexpensive but necessary items that make life during wartime bearable, and the lady’s more obliging to want to be with you.
“So, having money to buy girls things so they want to spend time with you is a part of war?”
“Absolument.” France laughed. “There’s more to war than fighting and killing.”
America blushed when the pretty redhead in the group winked at him. “I had no idea, war’s more complicated than I thought.”
“I think the vixen likes you. Time to put that money to good use mon cher.”
America suddenly felt scared, “What do I do France?”
France turned and smiled, “You like to fish right?”
“Sure I do!” America answered grinning.
“Alright then, think of this as a new way to fish. I call it ‘trolling for yoni’ and it’s time to set your hook.”
The weeks since France had joined America in the war against England had been the most educational and enjoyable America could remember in a long time. France had immediately taken on the role of big brother and began teaching America about the finer points of warfare that were just as important as drilling, how to fire a weapon and marching. When they were relieved from duty they spent their time in more fun pursuits; such as enjoying the company of local ladies.
America found himself with time to spend with France thanks to recently being moved up the ranks to lieutenant. He received the field commission after the battle of Green Spring, when Lafayette tried to attack what he thought was a small detachment of Cornwallis’ men, only to find his entire army in hiding. The continentals were cut off from escape when the order for a bayonet charge was called. At first it looked as though the British line would hold, but America had run forward and run the officer leading the British resistance through with his bayonet, and the rest of the line caved.
He now wore an officer’s uniform, complete with a navy blue coat with red facings. Since they were in Virginia, the only uniforms available were the southern; continentals from the north wore white facings on their dark blue coats. America didn’t mind, it meant he got to spend more time with France.
It was dark by the time they made their way back to camp. It became obvious something had happened by the charged atmosphere among the troops. “We need to get to headquarters.” France said. They both ran through the rows of tents until they came to the small farmhouse being used by the commanders.
They arrived at the doorway of the house and found a fellow officer standing there. He turned to see who was coming out of the dark and smiled at them. “Washington’s on his way here.” He said.
The officer’s words stopped both countries in their tracks. “What happened with the attack on New York?” France asked. Behind him America’s eyes grew wide at the news.
“That’s what Washington wanted everyone to think. Now he and Rochambeau are on their way here. Left a few soldiers to protest Congress demanding a months pay. They even paid them to make it look good! But now DeGrasse has Cornwallis and the Brits cut off from their escape route out of York by sea, we’re going to cut them off by land.”
“What is Cornwallis doing?” France asked.
“Building fortifications around the town and waiting.”
“This is wonderful!” France exclaimed, turning to look at America. “Do you know what this means?”
America had a slight smile on his face, “That the war could be over?”
“Oui!” France couldn’t hide his excitement.
“It’s true,” the young officer in the doorway, said. “And now that Spain has cleared the Gulf coast of England’s navy, and France’s navy has cut off Cornwallis here, the fight should go out of England pretty quick.”
A wicked smirk flickered across France’s face, “Interesting choice of words.”
The way France spoke made America blush.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“You must have patience America, a siege is a very different type of battle.” France tried to comfort him, but he could see the young nation was irritated with the time they had already spent waiting.
“But all we do is dig dig dig and haul guns while England shoots at us!” America pouted. They’d been there for weeks spending every day building trenches to move supplies and get closer to the fortifications England had built around the town. Every day while they dug in the early autumn Virginia sunlight bullets whizzed over their heads. Impatient with the progress, America had grabbed a shovel, stripped to the waist and joined his men, hoping another pair of hands would make the work go faster.
“Let them shoot, they’re using up their ammunition with no chance of being resupplied. The trenches are necessary to move men closer to the redoubts. Don’t worry, we are almost ready, and then the real fun begins.” France couldn’t help but admire how tanned America had become. “And the work is helping you keep fit I might add.”
America frowned at France, who was almost leering at him. “You’re as bad as von Steuben, you know that?”
“If I were as bad as von Steuben I would have stopped treating you like a little brother a long time ago!” France laughed.
America dumped some water on a clean rag and wiped his sweaty neck. “Oh so there’s a time limit on how long you behave yourself?”
Before France could retort a rider cantered up to them and shouted, “Washington’s ready, we begin at five o’clock tonight!” As he rode away France stood and said, “It looks as though the waiting is over.”
America finished washing up and grabbed his shirt. “About time! We need to get to Washington.
“Non, America this is where we part ways, I to the left with Rochambeau and you to the right. If all goes well God willing we will meet in the middle soon.”
America shrugged into his shirt and faced France, extending his hand. “Thank you, for everything you’ve done. I wish Spain were here too so I could shake his hand.”
“You will get your chance.” France said, accepting America’s hand and giving it a firm shake. “Au Revoir!” He said, waving as he walked away to join the French forces. America finished dressing, grabbed his sidearm and ran in the direction of Washington.
America joined the other officers standing with Washington next to the first of the long line of cannons waiting and ready; artillerymen stood ready next to their guns. America listened as Washington ordered the artillery to fire all night long non-stop, so the British didn’t have a chance to make repairs in the dark. As the young country listened to Washington speak, he couldn’t help but admire the very tall man and the devotion everyone gave him. France always like to tease America for growing tall, but George Washington would always be the tallest man in the room, and not just physically.
One of the artillerymen walked up and handed Washington a linstock. General Washington fired the first cannon; the officers raised their hats and cheered.
England scowled in between sips of tepid, weak tea. It was already five o’clock and they had only been served tea 20 minutes earlier. He rattled the teacup on the saucer and dropped it on the table. “I say, this is abysmal.”
“They cut the rations again.” Another officer murmured, in between bites of stale biscuit.
“I realize this is war, and they cut the rations again, but they could at least have the decency to serve it on time!” England’s scowl deepened. “We need to maintain some semblance of civilized society, even if we are in Virginia.”
Another officer shook his head. “It really is scandalous how bad things are getting, soon we won’t even have tea to drink for tea.”
“At least Washington and Rochambeau have been quiet most of the day.”
England glared at the idiot who spoke, the other officers also looked up at each other, holding teacups in mid air. The familiar whistle was faint at first, but only one thing made a noise like that in wartime.
“Hit the deck!” England screamed as the cannonball crashed through the wall and splintered the table into matchsticks. The men dove in any direction they could for cover as the cannonball exploded and sent shrapnel in all directions. Outside men shouted in alarm as they scrambled to defend themselves from the constant onslaught that came from opposite directions.
England coughed in the smoke as he stood up surrounded by the mess that had once been a comfortable dining room. The officer who had spoke right before they were hit was lying on the floor bleeding badly. The rest of the officers got up and ran to get out of the burning room before it was hit again.
Outside officers barked orders at the men as they grabbed everything they could and ran for shelter. England grabbed one officer by the arm and shouted, “Get everyone in the trenches now! We need to refortify redoubts nine and ten before morning to keep them from advancing on the city! Do it now!”
The officer ran off to carry out England’s orders. England’s angry eyes stared in the direction he knew the Americans were holding and watched another cannonball come in fast and close. It crashed in through the window that had once been his quarters and raised the roof, sending shingles and glass into the street below. England ducked and covered his face inside his arm, then lowered it to look out again into the advancing dusk and the fires of the American artillery in the distance. “Bloody hell, no civilized society at all.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Haha! You missed!” America shouted at France as the artillerymen loaded another round into the smoking cannon.
“Merde!” France swore, shouting in angry French at the men to take better aim.
The American cannon fired, and a cheer went out as the bricks of the chimney they had been taking target practice on disintegrated into dust.
America and the artillerymen cheered, “Beat that one!” America laughed, pounding the fireman on the back.
“Fine, FINE!” France shouted back, grinning madly as his eyes scoured what was left of the town; “The house on the left, second story, the window on the right, has one pane of glass left!”
“I see it!” America said and both countries’ artilleries moved quickly to reload and prepare to fire. Just as France had promised, once the combined efforts of the French and Americans fought to beat back the English on redoubts nine and ten, they had met at the middle. When America had seen France standing there smiling at him he swept him up in a bear hug so tight the other country’s face turned red from lack of air. They had moved artillery onto the captured fortifications and aimed them at the town; now laying cannon fire from three directions and just about putting the town in ruins. The French and American artilleries were now having a friendly competition to take out the last of England’s defenses.
France was about to give the order to fire when movement at the pulverized fortification gate surrounding the town opened. A single English officer waving a white handkerchief came into view. “Hold on France!” America shouted, holding up his hand to stop him from lighting the powder.
France looked up and saw the officer walking slowly towards them, waving the handkerchief frantically as he stumbled. “It’s over.” He said.
America looked at France, and then looked down at the man shouting up at them that he had a message to deliver to General Washington.
“America, this honor is yours. Blindfold the man and take him to Washington immediately.”
France smiled at America’s open expression - shock, joy - as he jumped up and ran down to the Redcoat standing there. He pulled the handkerchief out of the man’s shaking hand and tied it over his face, then led him in the direction of Washington’s headquarters.
Looking out over the remains of the wall, England caught his breath when he saw America run out and blindfold the officer, then lead him away. He couldn’t stop the sob that escaped from his throat as he wiped his eyes on his sleeve. He raised the whiskey bottle to his lips, and then realized it was already empty. England swore and threw it on the ground, then walked over to the wooden box the men had found in the cellar of a leveled tavern and grabbed a full one. He slid down against the wall and pulled out the cork, pleading eyes looking up to heaven.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
They had stood there for hours, staring at each other waiting for Cornwallis to appear and lead his troops out to officially surrender. France had taken the opportunity to make funny faces at America, who has just about bitten through his bottom lip to keep from laughing out loud. His eyes pleaded with France for relief, but the other country’s eyes danced as he went cross-eyed, watching America’s face turn bright red. A drum was heard and everyone snapped back to attention. The gate opened wide and the invincible British army marched out to formally surrender.
Their uniforms were clean, but America still couldn’t stop himself from looking at France in shock when he saw the men come out. Some didn’t bother to march in formation, just strolled casually along. Some men were weeping openly, and others stumbled as if they were drunk. When America caught sight of England, his eyes grew wide as he saw him march, or stumble more like, towards him. He looked straight ahead, but it was obvious he was incredibly drunk. At one point he had to reach out and grab the shoulder of the soldier marching next to him and America realized that it was then England had seen him standing there. He kept marching/stumbling as he went past, looking straight ahead. America watched him move away not sure what emotion he felt at that moment.
Then he heard the tune the fifers played as the redcoats made their way to the field designated to ground arms. It was a song England had taught him and Canada when they were both little:
If buttercups buzz'd after the bee,
If boats were on land, churches on sea,
If ponies rode men and if grass ate the cows,
And cats should be chased into holes by the mouse,
If the mamas sold their babies
To the gypsies for half a crown;
If summer were spring and the other way round,
Then all the world would be upside down.
America felt himself transported far away and he suddenly felt very small again. He could hear Canada’s laughter at the silly words as England sang them; could feel the pull of his arms as he spun them both around in time with the tempo of the song.
Suddenly he was snapped back to the present when he heard the angry shouts of the British commander as he came forward telling the men to ground their arms properly. America saw a few men continue to violently toss their muskets on the pile as if trying to break them, but after that the men began laying them down properly again before returning to their lazy formations and marching back towards town. When England reached the point to ground arms, he unsheathed his sword, held it in his hand for a few moments, swaying considerably back and forth, before casually tossing it down as if he were throwing trash onto a midden. He began his drunken meandering back, passing America by again without making eye contact, except this time there were tears streaming down his face. America made eye contact with France, who looked very cheerful as he winked at the younger country.
The French and American armies were dismissed and they broke formation. France walked forward and put his hand on America’s shoulder. “He’s three sheets to the wind my friend, don’t let his tears bother you too much, besides you haven’t been fair about any of this.”
“I haven’t been fair?” America asked, an incredulous look on his face.
“Oui, you silly boy, I told you this once before, you’re supposed to let England win because that is only fair.”
America smirked at France, then watched as the last of the redcoats disappeared behind the decimated fortification walls to their new prison camp. “We outnumbered him two to one, he had his chance.”
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Author’s note: It’s tradition and not historical fact that the song the British drum and fifers played when they surrendered at Yorktown was “The World Turned Upside Down.” I found one eyewitness account that said the song they played was very sad and mournful. You can listen here and decide:
Click to viewI read five different eyewitness accounts of the siege of Yorktown, and they all told a very interesting story. One man remarked about how the British grounded their arms as if trying to break them, and how they were very unprofessional and unsolder like. Another young man named Benedict Gilbert wrote letters to his parents and to his friend who was also serving in the continental army at the time. The letter home complained about the lack of money to buy things like shoes and stockings, and the letter to his friend complained about the lack of money to entertain girls with. Yes, towards the end of the siege when Cornwallis was out of options the French and Americans actually had some good-natured competitive target practice with the artillery.