The soldiers had marched straight into
an ambush, as Washington had feared. With whoops and yells the Indians
commanded by a few French were firing from behind every rock and tree.
The regulars were thrown into confusion. This type of warfare was new
to them. They did not know how to answer it. The front ranks recoiled
upon the others, throwing all into wild turmoil.
Washington at once threw himself into the fight--counselling,
persuading, commanding. A company of Virginians, previously sneered at
as "raw militia," spread themselves out as a protecting party of
skirmishers. The English officers, also, be it said, displayed the
utmost bravery in trying to rally their men. The general, as though to
atone for his headstrong folly, seemed everywhere at once. He had two
horses shot from under him, before receiving wounds in his own body,
which were to prove mortal.
It was all over in a comparatively short time. The troops which had so
proudly marched, with arms glittering in the sun, were put to rout by
an unseen foe. That they were not almost annihilated was due to the
presence of Washington and the Virginians. They fought the enemy in
kind, and protected the fugitives until some sort of order could be
restored.
Washington it was who collected the troops and rescued the dying
general.
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