Saturday the 10th/
Another morning filled with aiding around the camp. Water fetched, dishes cleaned, and afterward I tidied my bedroll which was full of the straw we'd laid down. The straw we'd been issued was full of thorns and briars, so handling it was tough on the hands.

The remainder of my morning was spend in idleness around Trader's Row again.

About mid-morning, Capt. France attended a meeting of all the captains to lay down the battle scenario for after midday. Upon his return, we all walked down to the station to block things out.

A great number of visitors followed throughout the morning. They walked all about the station, and some even wandered up the path to our camp.

After our midday meal, a group of militiamen marched off into the woods in the direction of the Indian camp. Jim Hamilton, Wm. Maddox and I watched with great interest from the brush near our camp. Hamilton called out the events as they occurred over his shoulder for the benefit of the Capt. and others who were making ready. We had been ordered not to leave camp unless we were under arms, so our weapons were never far away.

From out vantage point we could see everything in relative safety. Our camp was away from the station at enough of a distance and covered by trees so that it was concealed from view.

"Here comes the militia." Jim announced as they returned from the direction of the Indian encampment.

We all watched in silence as they marched in two straight lines.

"I see Indians!" he finally called out. They were stalking the militia, unseen in the nearby woods.

France gave the order and we all took up arms, running down to the small cabin between our camp and the station proper. We stomped right through the middle of a large plot of earth obviously intended to be a garden. I tried to have my feet land in the holes created by Capt. France to minimize any damage, but I was unable to do it given that the Capt. is at least a foot taller than I.

We took up positions behind the cabin and waited.

The Indians opened fire, ambushing the militia. They were nearly all butchered before they could react and defend themselves.

Capt. France gave the order to fan out and open fire.

We rushed up and began firing. Ridley was the first to get hit. A shot to his leg knocked him to the ground, but he was obviously not dead. Gallentine and I being the closest to him rushed over to render aid. We each grabbed an arm and began to lift.

No sooner did we have him on his feet than another shot rang out and finished him off. Blood sprayed everywhere, his face covered in it. He dropped to the ground as if his pockets were full of lead.

Another shot rang out and Gallentine was down. I was in the open and spread out from the remainder of the unit.

One final shot and I was hit! I dropped the Brown Bess and fell backward to the ground. My final sight was the midday sun beating down as a trickle of blood rolled down my chin. I was dead.

Special thanks to mason 40965 for allowing me to use some of his images from the event.

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