A few days after our arrival, a detachment, of which our company was a part, was sent out to attack a considerable party of Indians fifteen miles down the river. We started as night set in and marched all the way on the ice. About two o’clock we came near the place where we expected to surprise the enemy. We were put in order of battle and instructed to proceed in silence.
“Still was the pipe and drum—
Save heavy tread, and armor’s clang,
The sullen march was dumb.”
In a few minutes enemy forces were in sight; they were nearly a mile off in a bend of the river. When we were within gunshot (I could hear the men cocking their pieces), our company, to a man, was even at that moment cheerful and gay! Fear was far distant from our ranks; and I do sincerely believe that, had the enemy not flown previous to our arrival, we would all have realized the expectations of our friends. Some of their spies (as we have since heard from prisoners from Malden) saw us on our march, and as a consequence they made a precipitate retreat. We followed them to within five miles of the Raisin River and returned to camp without any rest, except for two hours. We were absent twenty-one hours, during which time we marched more than sixty miles. You are already acquainted with the particulars of the last unfortunate account at the Raisin River, likewise the failure of the expedition to destroy the “Queen Charlotte.” Our company marched as far as the mouth of Lake Erie to reinforce the men of the first party, but we met them on their return. We have all built small houses, which make us very comfortable, in front of the tents.
The camp duty is very severe; there are no tents or houses for the guard when the men are off their posts, so that it is equally as pleasant for them to be at their posts as off. They are forbidden to leave the rendezvous of the guard. Every other day a man mounts guard; on the day that intervenes, he is at work within the camp. Major Alexander, who commands the battalion, is as fine a fellow as I ever knew. The most perfect harmony exists between the Pittsburgh company and ours; they are the only two companies of twelve-month volunteers in camp, and the only companies that wear uniforms. A generous emulation exists between them, which is of infinite service to both. Officers and men all mingle together. We visit each other’s tents of an evening, sing, tell stories, play music, and drink grog when we can get it (which, by the bye, is not often the case; sutlers are not permitted to sell spirits in the camp).
Poor Edmund S. Gee is no more! I saw him breathe his last. We consigned him to his mother earth with all the decency our circumstances would permit. We had it not in our power to dress his corpse in all the pomp and pageantry of sorrow. The tears of his companions, more eloquent than all the parade that sable weeds could bestow, were his due; and those he had! All the battalion attended the funeral, as did General Leftwich, who requested the chaplain to perform a funeral service, a thing not done on any similar occasion.
Chalmers and I will return to the camp in a few days. It is dangerous to travel the roads in small parties, as the Indians are all around the camp. We will be obliged to remain in the settlement until some troops are going on. The day before we left the camp, a lieutenant was shot and scalped within sight of the camp. Another man was shot at, but fortunately in his side pocket he had a Bible, which arrested the course of the ball and saved his life. There are one hundred miles of road between here and the rapids without a single inhabitant—all a wilderness.
WEEKLY REGISTER, May 8, 1813