Soon the rangers, and all of the other colonial troops, were in the woods, fighting the French and the Indians on their own ground. Time and again they rallied around the fatal spot where the royal troops remained exposed, and this should have given the soldiers from England fresh courage, but it did not. Still panic-stricken they fired into the Rangers, cutting down several before the mistake was discovered.
“If they’d only come out in the open,” cried one old grenadier. “I’d fight them all day then!” His sentiment was the sentiment of all his fellows, but the French and their Indian allies knew better, and continued to keep under cover, while cutting down every Englishman at whom they could get a shot.
With the fall of Braddock and a number of the other officers, the command fell upon Washington. The young Virginian was full of the blood of battle and had the contest depended upon his individual heroism the English would certainly have carried the day. Fearless of personal danger he rode around, having two horses shot from under him and receiving four bullet holes through his coat. Again and again did the French and Indians fire upon him, but he seemed to bear a charmed life, as if Providence was shielding him for greater deeds.
At last the truth forced itself home to all who remained alive. Braddock’s awful blunder in trying to fight the Indians and French according to the rules of European warfare had brought about complete defeat. Hundreds of the grenadiers had fallen and among the other troops the slaughter had been just as great. The artillery was practically deserted and the wagoneers cut their horses from the traces and mounted them in a mad frenzy to get away from the scene of slaughter. The shouting and whooping was terrific, and the Indians not only killed but scalped their victims at every opportunity.
It was now that Washington shone forth in his true character, able to calculate wisely even in such a moment of intense excitement. He had seen Braddock borne to the rear, slowly dying but still conscious and able to speak.
“Colonel, what is to be done?” asked the general.
“Retreat,” answered Washington, grimly. “Your men will not fight further, the assault has paralyzed them. The Rangers will cover the retreat.”
“As you think best,” sighed Braddock, and then continued, half to himself: “Who would have thought it! Who would have thought it!”
Again Washington went to the front, past the flying wagoneers and others who had been in charge of the heavy baggage. All was in hopeless confusion, some of the soldiers were on their knees calling upon their savage enemies to spare them. The forest was full of gun smoke, and the dead and wounded lay everywhere, dyeing the soil with their blood.
At last Washington made himself heard and managed to make those who remained understand that they must retreat in order or every man would be killed. The few officers who remained unhurt rallied to the support and the Rangers formed a body guard, beating back the French and Indians who wished to rush in and make the victory greater than it already was. The whooping and yelling went on and with it the shooting, until at last the English gained the river. Then the pursuit came to an end, the Indians stopping to gather up the baggage and other spoils left by the English and the French not caring to continue the fight unaided.