months earlier and at twelve miles altitude over the north coast
of Spain, a green line divided the land from sea. Below, over the
long wings of the airplane, the vast bright blue Bay of Biscay stretches
to the north over the horizon …
keep streaming past Hauberc's eyes. There is no order in time. Some
of these scenes even must be coming from other people and even from
other times in history? Could there be something like “genetic memory”,
like memory buds from his parents and grandparents ?
child eyes, he had been looking out through the bushes / over silver-bird
wing tips, off the edge of my yard, down through the stratosphere,
over continuous ripples of bright steel-blue ocean stretching out
for miles, the green east-west edge of land, coast ports far below
with jetties that extend out into water glimmering in the sun like
tiny diamonds; towns nestled deeper in the hills of Cantabria; and
other villages far off to the south...
Assigned with a U2 reconnaissance mission, on orders directly from
General Simone, his plane is just slowly floating, at near sixty-five
thousand feet in non-hostile airspace, where he has been monitoring
the infrared sonar screen to search for our B-52 that went down
two days ago with live Hydrogen bomb warheads, gone underwater with
all crew members.
Because of the danger, he had telegrammed Pamela to delay her flight
to meet him in Madrid; but my message had arrived too late, and
though they hadn't talked for almost a week, she was already on
her way across, on a transatlantic flight. Somewhere, perhaps twenty-five
thousand feet below this altitude, her airliner should be passing
about now, and they would soon be running naked together on an isolated
stretch of shining beach down on the Costa del Sol.
So long apart..
But her plane still hadn't come.
Lost : At the Madrid Airport, he waited in the vast terminal for
her flight which would never arrive.
Now they had lost both the H-Bomb and the plane she as on. The U2
motto "Videmus Omnia" keeps ringing in his head, over
and over, and he would add to it, Nihil Autem Gnoscimus! "But--
We Know Nothing!" Why hadn't Pamela told him sooner that she
was coming? given him more notice to expect her arrival? This was
now the inevitable (and irrevocable)
-- Her missing plane now with their bomber -- both on the bottom
of the Bay of Biscay somewhere off the north coast of Spain below
? --- And there he spotted it below, a submerged glowing-cobalt
circle of total stillness in the middle of a wavy, deep blue ocean
a zone that engulfed that dream into the depths, the depths of despair.
explode into sunlight together......God, Love, where are you?
The fear hits him like a sudden bomb that something else has happened,
and his plane suddenly bursts apart around him, the empty air pulling
him toward the distant ground, plunging him down in free fall from
sixty thousand feet -- tumbling down off the edge of the back-yard
hillock through leafy branches of bushes --without parachute or
In the busy harbor of Istanbul, he remembered the bay waters of
the Golden Horn filled with ships and boats, horizon lined with
domes and minarets, glimmering the smooth surface with gold and
morning sunlight from the Eastern world; the aroma of strange spices
and sea salt mixed with the coarse smell of diesel that gave the
city its exotic smell; motor sounds and whistles, with a muzzin’s
cries of prayer from a city parapet.
been assigned to observe a suspected courier contact in the indoor
section of the old pier terminal of a ferry excursion to the Bosporus
and Black Sea. Pursuing a lead intercepted yesterday in a short-wave
transmission, decoded by his British contact, Blackwell Hughes,
a higher ranking operative, evidently between Turkish and Bulgarian
agents, he is awaiting Hughes' arrival, readying to take up his
position, yet squeamish at being alone here. Was he alone at this
critical contact point, or only informed as being alone -- not to
know who were the others in position here?
strait between Europe and all of Asia could be the bridge, the transfer
point, of data on microfiche which could alter the balance of power,
the very proliferation of advanced nuclear weapons in the world.
Here, the cavernous
inside of the pier is crowded with tourists and travelers of different
nationalities, Eastern and Western, all standing in roped-off queues
which fill the rear section of the room... He notices that the berth
for the ferry itself is a U-shaped dock, similar to the terminus
of a railroad track, in the outer covered section of the pier, from
which the ferry, yet to arrive, can be boarded from gang-ways on
two sides. Presently, waves from the approaching ferry break up
the peaceful reflections in the water and lap against its inner
sides of the dock as in anticipation of the ripples of altered history.
Even with the
crowds, he is fortunately standing in a position in the line from
which he has an unobstructed view of the dock and the tiny streaks
of gold and brown and silver ripples
of water which begin to hypnotize the fear in him. He watches as
the ferry-boat comes closer to make its landing approach, and as
it slides smoothly into its berth.
As the people
in the lines waiting to board impatiently begin to move by the ticket-takers
and out onto the dock platform, he walks along with them as masses
of people are disembarking and moving on-board, while he watches
for the precise moment of a contact at a spot at the corner of the
cabin on the deck of the ferry. Across the dock, he thinks that
he sees Hughes finally arriving.
Now he is approached
by three men, two of whom are in Turkish police uniforms, who roughly
order him to come along with them, taking him onboard and quickly
shuffling him toward a companionway, as the ferry is beginning to
leave the pier and move out into the sunny harbor.
he is unable to glimpse Hughes again on the dock as he is taken
along a narrow companionway to a tiny cabin. Not stopping to tell
him why he has been seized, they shove him into the cabin, only
leaving him grateful not to have been struck.
from the floor, he finds that the door has been locked. Sometime
later, another door to the right is unlocked from the other side,
and slightly opened… Waiting several minutes, the door still left
ajar, he cautiously opens it, where he finds the crowded kitchen
hand, walking back and forth between his counters, is preparing
various dishes, but as Hauberc comes in the door the galley hand
he looks over at him and says something to him casually in Turkish,
which Hauberc is unable to follow, so continues to move around the
end of the counter, making a gesture of greeting to the fellow,
moving toward the door to the companionway. But the galley hand
suddenly looks up, pointing a small pistol and gesturing for him
to move away from the door and just sit there, while he watches
Hauberc out of one eye.
Hauberc playfully pokes his head into the passage, but he turns
back only to find himself again looking down the muzzle of a gun,
he just sits there on a stool across from the galley hand...
side-ward roll of the boat, and his uncertainty, gradually churns
his stomach, and he can only console himself that his partner is
aware of his capture and might negotiate for his release...
later, after making steadily eastward with no sight of land from
his cabin porthole, he finally senses that the ferry is slowing
into a docking approach.
by now mentally exhausted with the fearful prospect of capture,
detention, and maybe execution. His thoughts have already raced
into the state of blankness---
Guards come at last to lead him out onto deck, where four other
male captives are also being brought out. All are quickly shackled
together at the ankles, as the ferry thumps against the sides of
another U-shaped dock, coming to rest. After the regular passengers
the other captives are marshaled to move through the gate, awkwardly
tripping over their chains as they go.
But now he
startlingly realizes that the pier is an exact mirror-opposite of
the one from which they had embarked at Istanbul. And across the
dock, through the crowd, he sees his partner Hughes casually walking
to a waiting car, being saluted by the driver and driven off---
(Hope has been
removed, and today he cannot remember the grueling interrogation,
but only the name of someone in history named Xerxes, and a long
walk inland from the Crimean shores into a Ukraine landscape --
thinking: 'Well, here I am as in the poem : Tennyson's phrase echoing
in his memory -- “Cannons to the right of us/ Cannons to the left...”
as he continues to walk eastward over snowy roads, a helicopter
gunship circling high overhead in the blue to his right, and another
to his left...)
to the right of us... Cannons to the left of us... We marched down
into the Valley of Death..."
Through woods of grass-blade shadows, a memory reeled back from
more than twenty suns
ago -- '...even before my own twenty suns now?' -- Deep bush and
trees, climbing forest trails,
this was somehow the mountain spine of Italy. Hauberc had to bury
the map in his hand as soon as he memorized where he was. The Apennines.
Walking alone, but not aimless, he had already ditched his parachute
and buried it, away from where he had touched the ground, and tucked
the small Barretta back into the ankle of his right boot between
two layers of socks. Under his arm, a small canvas satchel carried
the materials he will need.
From the view
on this mountain trail, he can see over the distant hillsides of
Umbria, quaint villages with pink stucco buildings, and the church
steeple in the early morning angle
of sunlight from the east.
to climb through this rough terrain to get to the other side of
a small ravine,' he said to himself -- though he was unlucky enough
to twist his left ankle badly when he hit the ground, not the proper
landing he was trained for. So he would now have to worry about
getting back to his unit alive, without the fucking Germans seeing
his Grandma’s nephew, had hand-picked him for this mission, since
he spoke all the dialects, north and south. like a real paisan,
with Pop from Sicily, Moma from Ferrara. “Uncle Simone” and Pop
had enlisted together in the Italian Engineer Corps back in ’14.
Then, before he was even born, his little sister Hope, only 4, and
Grandma died when the Austrians were shelling Ferrara in '17. Knocking
out this bridge would prove his competence to Simone and being worthy
of being recruited for Strategic Services.
loosing ground since we invaded the Boot, he thought, and he’d soon
be defeated, and then just the Nazis left to fight. 'But I’ve got
to remember to think only in Italian. OK Giani, only in Italian!”
Still, if he
could get to the other side of the valley, walking where he would
probably come close to peasant houses he knew he’d be safer -- He
hadn’t been in this province alone before and so had to watch out,
not mistake anyone else to be his contact, Fascisti instead of partisan.
He hoped that
no lookouts had seen his chute come down -- black silk in the black
'I would normally be thinking in Italian, except for being scared.
I knew what would happen if
I forgot to speak Italian right away, if I could stop thinking in
English. They might rattle off an English phrase to trip you up.
--- Even accidentally holding your knife and fork the American way
in a cantina would land you in a torture chamber and being stood
up in front of a wall.'
All he could
think about now was just meeting up with his comrades and getting
back to the US lines to the south tonight -- a long walk already
but much longer with his aching ankle. They would be specifically
looking for him in two hours. Still there was no sign of his contact.
were walking further ahead on the path where he trod -- stocky tall
men with dark hair and handlebar mustaches. Both carried beat-up
looking Springfield rifles slung over their shoulders. But he couldn't
tell for sure who might have issued these rifles, maybe leftovers
from the Great War, so he decided to just watch them until they
moved beyond his area, but not to completely lose sight of them.
The two stopped
and sat on some large rocks near where Hauberc hid, their voices
just within earshot, talking about the new Social Republic, and
the news that Il Duce had just flown over to the Germans, but the
sound of their words drifted partly to the other direction -- and
he still couldn't make out their conversation clearly enough to
be sure of their loyalties -- He would just sit tight until they
decided to continue along further ahead into the early morning light.
more than a quarter of an hour, Hauberc was able to make his way
deeper and deeper into the woods, careful not to break branches
where he trod. He was now beginning to locate his objective.-- The
chart that he had committed to memory seemed slightly different
from the actual lay of the land itself...
But when he
discovered his destination some time later, and looked at his small
timepiece, he realized how much later it was now, behind his schedule,
because it had been necessary to stop to avoid these two peasants.--
over a gorge in the mountainside was wide enough and apparently
strong enough to allow Panzer tanks and high half-tracks to pass
over. Another 'road leading to Rome.'
By the time he had installed the explosives under the second and
third bridge supports he realized that the sun was higher in the
sky than he hoped it would be by now. The timepiece said 0810 hours
He was just
able to get the detonator wire stretched to a safe distance away
when he began to hear the sounds of a mechanized unit approaching.
They were ten minutes early! Shit! Fucking stupid goose-steppers.
They were now
already coming out onto the bridge -- This is not what he hadwanted
to happen -- He could have just done the damned bridge and gotten
the fuck out, with no danger
to himself or having to kill anyone. -- But Simone’s orders were
precise. -- And he was much more likely to get home than they were
men were already at the middle of the crossing, two tanks rumbling
up in line behind them, then a half-track already off the terra
Why did they
have to be so damned early ? What could he do now? This could only
mean certain death to all these men and disaster to their wives
waiting for them back home, as Phyllis waited for him. He would
be damned by God for this ... just for touching the ends of these
two wires to the poles of this little battery --
But fuck Hitler
and his death camps. Hauberc knew the rumors were true after Simone
had showed him the secret aerial reconn photos: trains of cattle
cars and rail tracks leading to “resettlement camps” they called
them, to which all the Jews of Europe were being brought, though
the number of barracks stayed the same... Just a river of people
being brought in every day, and no one gets out…
But, Oh, God,
how could he get out of this? The rumbling of the engines vibrated
the supports of the bridge, but not enough for them to give way
Now he had
to shut his eyes tighter and tighter, wondering if he could do it
with his eyes closed. Maybe not, as he felt the hot spark snap between
his fingers. 'I'll pray for you men -- about to pay the highest
price for obeying Hitler's orders -- Mother Maria, Forgive me my
Soul!' Then the dark velvet inside his eyes suddenly flared to deafening
white-orange -- a horrendous deafening blast of nitrate and the
thundering sounds of men and heavy vehicles falling forward into
the chasm : soldiers, jangling utensils, helmets, rifles discharging,
and terrified cries.--
Just a few
hours later, many young people have gathered and are crowding into
the garage behind his parents' house, attempting to hide from the
menacing war and the outside air – Huaberc is huddling everyone
in, squeezing himself inside among them, so that he can roll down
the overhead door, looking out through its small panel windows,
and again pretend that the garage is a space-ship, 'We can blast-off,
and escape the fallout clouds.'
But then Frederick
Pageant, Hauberc's friend since kindergarten appeared again outside
the side window, trying to get their attention before everything
is closed out entirely to the exterior world. Fred looks now more
like Hauberc remembered him from before, still the same refined
looks but slightly buggy eyes, especially at this moment when he
surely has something to say. Hauberc cannot understand from where
Fred has arrived, although the same applies to all the others crowding
Fred is smiling
and starting to laugh when Hauberc pulls open the window:
"I'm glad you've gotten this window fixed by now," Fred
says, referring to an episode when they were eleven, playing catch
in the yard, with Hauberc under the den window, back and forth faster
and faster until – crash!
out in the alley, I want to tell you something I just saw,"
"Where have you been?!" answers Hauberc, climbing out
of the window, nearly spilling himself head over heels onto the
hard ground, in the alley between four garages back to back. The
armed lookout still up on the other roof glances down, rolling his
something strange happening down at the pond," Fred tells Hauberc,
"Hundreds of people are just walking around."
"Yeah, I don't know where any of these kids here came from
"Come on and take a look."
over the barricade, cutting through into the drive-way of a rear
neighbor's house and out to the street on the opposite side of the
block, down to the end of the street of houses, to the top of the
rounded stone stairway which overlooks the water of the wide pond.
Looking down into the park, they can see hundreds of people milling
about, some picnicking in the field to the right which is split
by the brook that feeds the pond. They descend the steps in slow
motion, and walk along the people rambling by the sidewalk edges
of the water, surprised by this sudden relaxed-looking re-population
of the town. On the opposite side of the pond, one child drags a
red wagon behind him, while a young girl pulls the line of a toy
sailboat making waves along the bank. On the water at the far side
of the inlet of the brook, two boys in a small blue polyethylene
play boat poke around the edges of a sandbar in the harsh sunlight.
Hauberc remembers that he had seen old colonial period maps: this
land was virtually unchanged, with the narrow falls of rocks at
the pond's lower end, built up in the 1930s by the W.P.A. into a
brick spillway that topped a small bridge path. Now Frederick and
Hauberc walked wordlessly around the bend of the high stone wall,
coming to the lower neck where the water falls into the lower park.
Passing by the stone steps which lead down into the lower park,
they cross the little bridge, keeping to the ridge where it makes
a wide circle overlooking the lower park.
In the small valley below, an old walled-in swimming area of the
widened stream follows a crescent shape to another waterfall. Another
walled brook further along leads to a culvert under a cross street
and into a lower open park field, past the old Robert's Rouge factory.
The water in the brook still leaches with yellow and red dyes flushed
from rusty pipes. The next cross street, called Long Brook Avenue,
runs down the hill from Main Street to the right, and over another
hills to the left; where the stream here is crossed by a decrepit
wooden bridge, though Hauberc distinctly remembered another culvert
The stream ahead passes ahead through a wide swampy area, which
they skirt to the left, following a hillock path where Frederick
decides to turn around to and say: "Let's pretend that we're
in Stratford like it was a hundred years ago, OK?" Pushing
through branches, holding them away from his face for Hauberc to
catch up, he walks straight along the path.
They presently come out to a pasture where a cow-path crosses east-west,
where Hauberc realizes that Barnum Avenue should run down to Ferry
Boulevard, to the east towards the river. But something is wrong
here, where he knows should be the back end of GRAND-WAY, a huge
white, cinder-brick, one-level discount department store with wide
asphalt parking lots. Further towards the left there should be a
building tile manufacturing plant further down, and a contract plating
But now Hauberc
feels lost, as he can only see a few old houses, and a thick grove
of elm trees over the crest of the hill.
Frederick is already heading onto the rocky knoll across the cow-path,
above the brook, and back into the area where I had found him once
before, the old Union Cemetery, behind the Fire Department and Masons'
Lodge building on Main Street. Up through the field of scattered
headstones, Hauberc finally catch up to where Fred is standing,
looking at one of the flag-decorated new grave sites.
He points out one stone which reads the name of an army corporal
and the dates 1847 - June 3, 1864, with the epitaph newly chiseled:
Mama, I'll pin this letter to my fold,
My Comrades all have Fallen,
This Cold Harbor is so cold,
I hear my Lord a' callin'..."
further southwest across the field parallel to the direction of
Main Street and the buildings of the town center hidden behind a
tall thicket of sumac across the railroad tracks...
The sky, once
partly sunny, has become completely gray with heavy clouds moving
in, shading the daylight. By another brook that joins Long Brook,
they finally come up to the unpaved center of town, but there find
only a few buildings surrounding: a tanner's shop next to an old
homestead, then a General Store, with a sign “Ufford's,” and a darkened
tavern and the stately white Congregationalist Church across the
As they begin
southward down Main Street, somewhat confused, along the line of
oaks and beeches and large mansions, a sudden commotion of several
horses, galloping up the road from behind them, carrying riders
in long coated blue uniforms, passes by them and then turns right
up ahead at the Green at West Broadway ---
them, they also turn and walk through the small green, where they
can see the riders tying up their horses outside Benjamin's Tavern,
a stately wide yellow-stucco house situated at the far end of the
green. The men dismounting their horses are already engaged in a
subdued conversation with several other men standing outside the
the activity, Frederick and I enter the door of the tavern and find
seats at the end of a long table, overhearing the semi-discreet
talk going on.
We do not have
to wonder long what is happening, as two of the soldiers are relating
the events of a skirmish from which they have come in the town of
Ridgefield against a large force of British Regulars who were marching
back toward their landing point at Compo Beach by Norwalk Town after
burning down the Continental Army supply stores at Danbury --
"Captain Coe's been captured by the bloody Red Coats -- we
bear sorry news, men,”
--they talk out of breath... "General Wooster's been shot bad
"No, by Jesus!" the innkeeper gasps. "How...What
forces in Bethel when you men went with Silliman and Arnold against
their main flank; we were with Wooster closing in on a splinter
column left behind. He took a shot through the stomach and went
down from his horse -- Looked like too much blood lost -- He'll
not make it." The speaker slumps into a seat.
begin to speculate on what will become of morale at the loss of
a rallying leader, and the loss to strategic planning.
But the innkeeper,
who had been noticing Pageant and Hauberc's curiosity since arriving,
finally comes over to where they sit. "You two young masters
look strangers to this town --
Where do you
hail from? And what brings you to Stratford?"
takes them off their guard. "I'm Inspection Committee Officer,"
the innkeeper goes on. "and I'll have a look at your papers..."
I look at each other blankly. "We live up at the Green,"
talking about the green above the ox pasture? At whose house there
are you staying??"
Green," Hauberc attempts to mend the story.
turns to call over the others, "Men! I think we have here those
two Tory spies they saw in Danbury two weeks ago! They fit the descriptions."
let them escape us!" shouts the commander summoning the soldiers
over to them.
a minute," chimes Pageant. "Were you talking about Benedict
Arnold? -- We can give you important information!"
too soon, Frederick..." Hauberc cautions.
him Frederick! He may be a Hessian!"
will please move from that seat," orders the innkeeper. "Search
them for weapons..."
Hauberc are immediately questioned and at first accused of stupidity
on account for their uninformed answers, then of diabolic deception
regarding their claims that they come from the Twentieth Century.
Producing dated coins from their pockets, they are next accused
On into the
questions, the Inspection Officer soon intervenes lest the other
inquisitors reveal secret information.
Hauberc are taken from the inn and told that they will be brought
to Regimental Headquarters at New Haven, some twelve miles east,
a three hour voyage. They will be interrogated and charged with
fellows have Pageant and Hauberc walk along next to their horses
through the parade ground they call Broad Street, across Main Street,
and down New Lane, lined with large homes, by the cemetery to Elm
Street with the same salt-box house Hauberc has always known in
that lot. The questions that Pageant and Hauberc ask rain them with
accusations of spying and witchcraft, as if the two we were so confident
of rescue or escape that they would seek to ferret more intelligence.
the Colonial fellows bring them across Tanner's Brook bridge and
up the long Ferry Bridge Road, toward the landing, where they will
be brought across the Housatonic River to go on the rest of the
way through the Milford Colony on the Boston Post-Road to get up
to New Haven. Walking up the carriage trail that traverses a wide
heath covered with birds and sunshine, Hauberc begins to feel almost
hypnotized with their predicament. But Frederick becomes more lucid
and begins to tell their captors, as they walk, that one day this
would be the path of a turnpike super-highway with six lanes and
no stops from Florida to Maine for motorized "horseless carriages"
and also for them on this site, a vast factory called Raybestos
which will make asbestos-lined brakes for these motor-cars.
you'll need good spark-proof brakes for a carriage powered by a
hah, hah. Will that be enough to stop it?"
you have a factory in the middle of a field where there is no stream
for the water mill?"
on steam and electricity. Its the same thing that Ben Franklin discovered
when his kite was struck by lightning." explains Frederick.
will you get all this asbestos stone?"
don't know...South Africa, I think..."
Victoria will have a colony there after a war with the Dutch settlers."
who? Is she another Hanover ?"
there is the baseball field where we used to go to watch the Brakettes
practice, the Raybestos women’s baseball team from the factory.
Its like cricket --" Hauberc adds.
"You mean 'wicket'?"
play a game called 'cricket' in New York City and in London, too!
You know that well enough, Tory!"
owners will make women play field games in public?! It's an immoral
"No, its for fun, not wagering."
boys would go to a Bedlam house, if we weren't going to shoot you
"--Will these mill owners control our independent nation?"
the other asks, ponderously.
"Hauberc, you Zarf, we had better shut up..." warns Frederick.
these lies!" shouts the Inspection Officer in their faces,
lest they steal the sympathies of his men. "Hold your tongues
and your absurd tales!"
Now they all
proceed in silence, crossing the wide, scrub field. The same path
on which they walked would shortly bring them to the crest of a
small rise and down to the bank of the Housatonic River. Would there
be a bridge there now? Hauberc remembered going out onto the span
which would be called The Washington Bridge, far smaller than the
Manhattan version of the fuller name, remembered walking out halfway
across, looking down at the surface of the water below, and finding
the iron gate unlocked so that he could climb the narrow stairway
down one of the concrete support structures to the waters edge,
hoping not to be seen, but spotted by construction workers, so that
he had to run back to the top of the steps, and furtively retrace
his steps back to the Stratford side.
But now wondering
what will become of he and of Frederick when they have been interrogated
at Regimental Headquarters in New Haven, Hauberc suddenly, finally
realized that he was walking by himself, somehow, as though he always
had been, that there were no others, but that he had been led here.
the rise, he could see no sign of Moses Wheeler's Ferry Landing
as he knew should be here, that should have been here since the
beginning of the Stratford Settlement. In fact, the only sign of
habitation were the campfires visible deep in the woods on the Milford
side of the river.
he recalled the game that Frederick had concocted to imagine the
town in the past, and the game he has disappeared in the middle
of, just as he has always been prone to do when they played in the
woods, not to be late for supper at home...
A gnawing feeling
of aloneness descends over Hauberc, as he tried to figure ways of
crossing the wide but calm river. Instead he choose going west back
over the trails behind him, consciously repeating the same journey
as his earlier return home to an abandoned 20th Century town.
there were no trails leading anywhere, much less where he wanted
to go. Now he could cut through the scrub-brush heath, making his
way across a dry chalk bed, and eventually through other maple groves,
coming along a puddle-covered open meadow at the place which he
knew would one day become football and baseball playing fields of
Long Brook Park.
One narrow path led slightly north up along the edge of the hill
into the area the innkeeper had called the upper ox pasture, bringing
in view the same long brook which Frederick and he had followed
downstream. To the right, he could see the same undeveloped woods
as would still be at the end of the street of his parents' house,
where he had played and dug holes and tunnels as a boy.
path led up the slope, sparsely lined with tall oak and elm trees,
bringing him closer to some tall conical objects located further
back in a clearing, which he momentarily recognize to be wigwams,
situated almost on the very site of his parents' and neighbor's
Cautiously approaching, he attempted to hear or see whatever inhabitants
there might be about: At a spring close by, a handsome, middle-aged
Native American woman was washing some clothes over rocks where
a tiny brook was formed, running away west towards the pond he knew
would be a quarter-mile away. At a small campfire some small game
was being cooked with its sour smoke drifting over him.
But then behind
him there was a sudden crashing through the underbrush to his right,
and he turns to see a young Indian man running at him. The Indian
grabs at Hauberc, but is moving so fast that he only succeeds in
throwing Hauberc over to the ground. The woman, now alarmed, starts
to run to her wigwam, but her flight is interrupted by the sharp
report of musket fire in the air--
As she topples down in pain, Hauberc realized that the rumbling
noise he'd heard as the young Indian was coming at him, was the
gallop of approaching horses. An arrow flashes through the air striking
one of the five white riders in the collar.
Another rider throws a torch upon the wigwam, sending orange flames
immediately billowing up and around its sides: The screams of young
children emit from inside it. Hauberc runs through the open toward
"That's one of them there, Capt'n Mason---" Hauberc see
one of the riders pointing at him.
In the split-second, he see the musket swinging around in his direction,
hears the quick report of the hammer, and the echo of gunpowder
off into the sky -- sees the impact of the ball and the red mess
in the center of his chest.