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revolutionarywarhistory · 1 year

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"...the new Regiment now raising": Continuing the story of the Extra Regiment [Part 1]

The 2nd Maryland Regiment at the Battle of Guilford Courthouse in 1781. This regiment was broadly the successor of the Regiment Extra. Courtesy of the Military Print Company.

Reprinted from my History Hermann WordPress blog.

In our last post, many of the contours of the Maryland Extra Regiment/Regiment Extra were outlined. This post aims to expand that story. It was pointed out that Lieutenant Colonel Alexander Lawson Smith (called Alexander Smith in the rest of this article), described as a "gentleman Who's Conduct & Bravery deserves Your Excellency notice" by Harford County's Richard Dallam in a letter to Maryland Governor Thomas Sim Lee on July 14, 1780, led the regiment. [1] Within this unit, Maryland 400 veterans Samuel Luckett, Josias Miller, John Plant, Charles Smith, and James Farnandis were all mid or high-ranking military officers. This post aims to outline the known members of the Extra Regiment beyond these six individuals using available information, telling more of the story of this regiment which is broadly lost to history. Sometimes this will overlap with what was said in the previous post, but generally it will be new information to expand existing scholarship on the subject.

Recruiting and desertion within the Extra Regiment

In July of 1780, to alleviate the "Exigencies of the War in the Southern Department" or southern theater of the Revolutionary War, the Council of Maryland ordered the creation of this regiment. Originally, it was supposed to consist of 531 men, with orders it be ready by July. [2] However, recruiting was so abysmal that hardly "one-half the promised number was obtained." This means that there was less than 265 men, with exactly 228 in the regiment, commanded by Mr. Alexander Smith, by December, marching later that year. This was not only because the state did not have sufficient funds for the recruitment of individuals into the regiment, later giving men 1,500 pounds to serve for only a three-month period, a successful measure, but also trying to draw in former deserters. The latter was compounded by armed boats reportedly "maned by the torys" in the lower part of Dorcester County, suppressed by Lieutenant Jonathan Smoot, later a captain, who burned the houses of those who held pro-British Crown sympathies and hung others of the same political persuasion.

The other problems of deserters was outlined by Benjamin MacKall, recruiter for the regiment in Calvert County, who told Col. Uriah Forest that in July only one man joined the Extra Regiment, with two enlisted, and former deserters, escaping by "breaking through the Prison wall." Adding to this was that fact that the local militia was not paying more than 5% toward procuring new recruits for the regiment, leading certain counties to not fulfill their quotas required to fill the ranks of new regiment. Still, in some counties, like Queen Anne's, 31 men were enlisted by William Hemsley even with lackluster recruiting in general.

Other problems with recruiting the necessary men led to continuing pleas. As the "extravagant prices given to Soldiers" for the regiment reduced recruiting for other regiments, new recruits were even furnished "with meat" so that they would stay within the ranks. This confirms that the idea that Maryland abandoned the idea of an Extra Regiment after the Battle of Camden on August 16 is completely erroneous. Nine days after that battle, the Council of Maryland wrote the wife of Governor Lee, Mary Digges Lee, saying:

We are very anxious to send forward the Regiment Extraordinary to reinforce the American Army. The Impracticability of procuring immediately by Purchase, a Sufficient Quantity of Linen, for Shirts for all the Men, induces us to solicit your Assistance at this Emergency, and to request a Loan of two hundred and sixty Shirts, which we will not fail to replace when you may deem it necessary to demand them.

In later months, the situation would seem to get worse. Fifty men within the regiment, as of September 17, were in the hospital, and "a number" deserted, but the Continental Congress still directed the state of Maryland to take certain measures "for the march of the new raised Regiment." As the year progressed, the soldiers of the regiment were clothed, even with continuing desertions and defections to "the Enemy's vessels," and was given the appropriate supplies for its imminent march Southward. Some soldiers were even rejected by the state, but then were allowed to march again under certain circumstances. Even the paymaster of southern department, Joseph Clay, was given 2,060 dollars on October 25 by the Continental Congress to enable the "extra regiment...to proceed to the Southward." [3] It was around this time that the Maryland legislature set the stage for the final dissolution of the regiment, by saying that "the non-commissioned officers and privates of the regiment extra ordinary be draughted into the old battalions of the quota of this state in the continental service, and that the field and commissioned officers of said regiment be recalled" with Mr. Alexander Smith holding "the rank of lieutenant-colonel, as a supernumerary officer of this state in the continental service." This does not mean that the regiment was abolished as other records prove that the regiment stayed intact until the following year.

On September 21, Mr. Alexander Smith was given his orders for marching the regiment, which he would follow and execute when the unit marched in December to join the Continental Army:

"The board think proper to direct That you proceed from :Annapolis as soon as circumstances will permit, on your March to Join the Southern Army by way of Alexandria to orange Court House & from thence by Charlotteville to Hillsborough. Alexandria being but two or three days march from Annapolis. Your men can take Provisions enough with them to last them thither, should there be no Issuing Post between. You will write to Col James Wood Commanding at Charlotteville, informing him when you expect to leave Annapolis. & on your March give him information of your movements by every private opportunity, it will not be necessary that you send Expresses. If on your route to Charlotteville you should receive orders from Col. Wood to halt, or hasten your March you will obey them, & from thence forward put yourself entirely under his Command, but if Col Wood should not find it necessary to alter your destination, you will proceed as already directed."

As discussed earlier, the extra regiment dissolved before the Battle of Guilford Courthouse, never seeing action under its name, with most of the regiment's men, but not all, merging into the Second Maryland Regiment. Some, such as Samuel Hanson, one of the regiment's ensigns, joined the 2nd Maryland. Lieutenant Colonel John Eager Howard wrote, as reprinted on page 87 of Cool deliberate courage: John Eager Howard in the American Revolution:

"there was a new regiment [Extra Regiment] sent out from Maryland which had been raised by the state, and it was thought that the officers had been more favored than the officers of the old regiments. It joined us a few days before the action and there were such jealousies among the officers that Genl Greene sent all the new officers home, and made a new arrangement of the two regiments. This was at the time my light infantry [troops who fought at the Battle of Cowpens] joined their regiments. The most of the new men were thrown into the second regiment which was very deficient of officers"

While some records show that some left the regiment on January 1st, it was not until February 12 that the Maryland General Assembly confirmed that the regiment was no more. Regardless, there is agreement among those who submitted pensions and with the existing records that the regiment was dismembered before the Battle of Guilford Courthouse, with the officers returning home as "Supernumerary" meaning that they stayed part of the Continental Army but were not "part of the regular staff," the regular group of officers. This explains why, in February, Mr. Alexander Smith was allowed to "hold the Rank of Lieutenant Colonel as a supernumerary Officer in this State in the continental Service." The following month, the General Assembly said that the regiment had been "reduced," recalling the field and commissioned officers, along with non-commissioned officers and privates, within old regiments, which confirmed what had happened earlier that year. By June 11, the Council of Maryland noted that several former soldiers within the old regiments and extra regiment applied for their bounties and they wished to "do justice to them" by giving them the money they deserved.

Who served in the regiment?

As noted in the previous section, 228 men were in the regiment as of December 1780. Even with this number of men, only the names of 184, at most, including some who later deserted, are known through remaining digitized paper records. If the number of 228 is taken as a fact, then that means that 44 names are not known. But, if the number of 531 men, the number they were aiming for with the creation of this regiment, then 347 names, at most, would not be known. Based on the fact that the regiment had problems with recruiting, it is more likely that between 44-100 names are not known.

From available information, it is evident that there were eight companies led by Captains James Gillespie, from Washington County, Samuel Cock (7th Company), a "young man with some property and of a very credible family," Mr. Charles Smith (Maryland 400 veteran), Benjamin Murdock (1st Company), Vachel Burgess, Samuel McLane, Henry Hill (son of Henry), and Montjoy/Mountjoy Bailey/Bayley, who later went on to be a captain in the Second Maryland Regiment and Seventh Maryland Regiment. [4] There was also Captain Archibald Golder, sometimes spelled incorrectly as Colder. But, he was described in numerous documents as the regiment's paymaster. [5] Hence, it is not known if he commanded a company or not. If there were eight companies and each had 55 people, this means there was about of 480 people, but since 531 were originally requested for the regiment, this means that there may have been an idea to create 10, 11, 12, 13, or even 14 companies, although this did not occur.

According to the records, there were twelve lieutenants within the Extra Regiment. They were Francis Shepard/Sheppard, Samuel McLane, Ignatius Boone/Boon (earlier an ensign), John Plant (earlier an ensign), Samuel Hamilton, Samuel Hanson of Walt, John Lucas, Samuel Jones, Mr. Samuel Luckett, and Charles Magruder (earlier an ensign). [6] There are eight other mid-level officers known. These men include ensigns Basil Clements, James Bickham, Ignatius Blandford, Theodore Middleton, Nathaniel Magruder, Mr. Josias Miller, Basil Gaither, and Joshua Warfield. [7] There was also Major Edward Giles, an officer who was second-in-command of the regiment.

Luckily some information survives on promotion and resignation of certain ranks. On September 1, Mr. Charles Smith, Samuel Cock, Archibald Golder, Samuel Hanson, Mr. Josias Miller, and James Bigham? resigned their ranks, while Benjamin Murdoch, Vachel Burgess, Francis Shepard, Samuel McLane, John Lucas, Charles Magruder, Mr. Samuel Luckett, Ignatius Boone/Boon, Theodore Middleton, John Plant, Jacob Gray, and Basil Clements were promoted. When this happened, the newly appointed ensigns to the unit were told that if they accept this promotion, they will "repair as soon as possible to this Place, to take Command."

The records of ordinary soldiers in the Extra Regiment are thin. A digital copy showing the return of those within Samuel Cock's Seventh Company is incomplete. There is only one page with the full return, of 55 men, and another showing 60 men within the company. Other pages are ripped off, only showing 18 or 29 men respectively. [8] They were clearly drawn from Prince George's, Charles, Queen Anne's, Kent, Wicomico, Worchester, and Charles counties, to name a few, as the records indicate. Some are listed as sick, others on furlough or not joined. The full return, with most of the men with blankets, shirts, shoes, and other equipment, with a few exceptions. [9] By later September, only 37 of Cock's company were present and able to march. The others were either sick in an Annapolis hospital, deserted from Annapolis, hadn't joined the company, sick in a Philadelphia Hospital, were "on command," or deserted at the Head of Elk earlier that month. [10]

There are scattered records of others who enlisted in the regiment. In July, there were 30 men who were described as the "1st 30 for Extra Regiment." [11] Seventeen others were mentioned at the end of this list. It is not known if they enlisted in the regiment or not. [12] On August 16, six men enlisted in the regiment (William Gloury, Francis McClain, John Butler, Peter Scott, James Scott, and Thomas Beaver), all of whom went down to Annapolis aboard "the Sloop Liberty." By November, there were 28 more within the regiment's ranks, with numerous desertions and non-joiners not among them. [13] If this isn't enough, there are assorted records for 24 individuals. One of them, John Hard, was "old & Deaf" and confined for desertion, which was different from the capture of John Collins, a private who had deserted to Kent County. [14]

Three other individuals seemed as people who wanted to join the regiment. In July 1780, William Hopewell of Salisbury, within Wicomico County, requested to have a command position within the regiment. Nothing else of Mr. Hopewell is known. The same month, Daniel Jennifer, in Charles County's Port Tobacco, said that he would be "glad" to be officer as part of the regiment. The same goes for Jacob Bythe who was proposed as a lieutenant for the regiment but the story ends there. Constantine Wright was part of the regiment reportedly as well and Private Jacob Blake was possibly a soldier, but his enlistment has not been confirmed. In all, Matthew Garner, Samuel Hanson (whose father was undoubtedly Walter, who said this son was a prisoner in April 1781), Charles Magruder, Vachel Burgess, Francis Shepard, and John Bryan were veterans of the Maryland 400, as noted in our last post.

Pensions and closing

While existing records only show records for 184 men in the regiment, only a few actually wrote pensions. Specifically 19 men had pensions:

Lt. Col. Alexander Lawson Smith [15]

Captain Charles Smith [16]

Captain Benjamin Murdock/Murdoch (includes a statement in which Montjoy Bayley asserts he was a captain in the regiment)

Captain Montjoy Bayley [17]

Captain Archibald Golder [18]

Lieutenant Samuel Luckett [19]

Lieutenant John Plant (previously an ensign) [20]

Ensign Josias Miller [21]

Ensign Theodore Middleton [22]

Private John McKay/McCay (new person not previously mentioned)

Private William Elkins (new person not previously mentioned)

Private John Shanks (new person not previously mentioned)

Private William Groves (who may have later become an ensign)

Private Jesse Boswell (new person not previously mentioned)

Private Giles Thomas (new person not previously mentioned)

Private Philip Huston (new person not previously mentioned)

Private Thomas Gadd (confirms regiment was broken up before battle)

Private William Patton

Private John Newton [23]

Others, such as James Hopkins, have no pension but are mentioned in other pensions, like his brother's pension in this case. This means that less than 11% of the men within the regiment, currently known, wrote pensions. Even the pensions themselves don't say much about the regiment as a whole. There may be even more since some of the names may be spelled differently in the pension records than those in the muster rolls.

Hence, it is hard to know the full story of those within the regiment, but the information gathered in this article and put into sections, brings it into public view, which is helpful for those researching their family lineage and those interested in military history.

#maryland extra regiment #extra regiment #regiment extra #revolutionary war #american revolution #british soldiers #continental army #us history #military history

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we-continental-soldiers · 1 year

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Joseph: hey mod?

Mod: yes Plumb?

Joseph: …can I… am I allowed to… well… MUD ISLAND WAS HELL! Remember Fort Mifflin! We did all we could to defend it! To keep the British out and away from Philadelphia but damnit… we just couldn’t do enough! And no one remembers! We suffered… lost good men… boys… lived and fought and suffered and died in cold mud…

Mod: …Joseph?

Joseph; I’m fine. I’m done now. I just needed a moment. Aye, I’m late but I needed a moment. *dusts off coat.* right well… good day to you all. *walks off*

#ic #ooc #Joseph Plumb Martin #Joseph Martin #american revolution #continental soldier #fort Mifflin #Private Joseph plumb Martin #amrev #revolutionary war #modern amias #modern Joseph plumb Martin #modern Joseph Martin #revolutionary soldier

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dyinglikenarcissus · 5 months

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Staying Home

Steve’s best girl has been sick before but not like this. He’s determined to be the best stay at home doctor boyfriend he can be.

Thank you so much @longingstormysoul for the inspiration. It’s not exactly what you requested but I had the flu and I kind of weaved this story into that.

Warnings: None really. Just fluff and stuff but this blog it still 18+. No funny business

Plagiarism isn’t cute. Don’t do it.

Like, comments, and reblogs are all appreciated 😊

Master List

You wake up feeling a slight chill run through your body. You snuggle closer to you personal heater and pull the sheets up to your nose. You swallow and know that the flu season has finally gotten to you. You try to take a breath and find your nose hopelessly stuffed. You attempt it again and are thrown into a coughing fit.

“You okay, princess?” You hear Steve’s sleepy voice mutter from behind you, rubbing a hand down your side.

You sit up and take a sip of your water bottle you kept by the bed. You attempt to sooth your burning throat but it doesn’t help as it brings on another coughing fit.

“Hey. What’s wrong?” Steve asks again sitting up to rub your back.

“I think I’m coming down with something,” you wheeze, trying not to talk too loudly.

“Oh, princess. Come here,” Steve coos and presses the back of his hand to your forehead. “You’re warmer than normal,” he muses.

“But I feel so cold,” you whisper, pulling the blankets to your chest.

“Yup. Definitely a fever. Do you have any cold medicine?” You nod and attempt to get out of bed. “I’ll get it,” Steve assures you and presses you back down.

“It’s in that cabinet,” you sniffle and cough before continuing, “in the corner by the sink.

The upper one.”

“Got it. You sit tight and bundle up,” orders.

You’ve never been one to follow orders.

You slide out of bed to use the restroom and brush your teeth.

Steve steps into the bathroom and appears in the mirrors reflection after you spit out your toothpaste.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay in bed?” There’s a playful smirk on his face as he watches you through the mirror.

“I’m not the soldier in this relationship,” you whisper. You think the vibrations from your toothbrush loosened the congestion in your nose but your throat was still on fire.

“When you finish up, I made you some hot tea then I’ll take your breakfast order.”

“You’re gonna cook?” You chuckle and rub some face wash against your skin. Your boyfriend is good at almost everything. Cooking is not one of those things.

He grins at your words. “Panera’s a block away. Whatever soup you want. Sandwich. They have flat breads now. Apple for breakfast, chips for lunch, baguette for dinner.” You can’t help but giggle at his notion but you’ve gone days only eating at Panera before. Sadly.

A day of Panera sounded amazing.

“And I made you a virtual doctors appointment. They’ll call in an hour. Just wanna make sure I don’t have to go on a murderous rampage to find a cure for the love of my life.” You giggle and it turns into another coughing fit.

“You’d go on a murderous rampage for me?” You smile once you regain your voice.

“Well…Bucky and Loki would. I’d go along to keep them in line.”

You smile at his words. “Thor can’t even keep Loki in line. What makes your think you can?”

“Hey! Who kicked Hitler’s ass across the continental US?” You shake your head and try not to laugh to hold back the coughs. “You done making yourself look beautiful? Get back in bed, princess.”

“Beautiful?” You huff, looking yourself over. You felt anything but beautiful but you’d take it.

You slink back into the bed with Steve on your heels. He tucks you in before sitting on the edge of the bed to take you meal order. It may be breakfast time but some chicken noodle soup sounded amazing. Stevie did say to order for the day…

You giggle at the array of items in your cart by the time you pass Steve’s phone back to him.

“Soup, salad, a whole baguette, a kitchen sink cookie? What is that?”

“It’s got everything but the kitchen sink,” you smile. They normally sell out at lunch so you’re staking your claim early. “What are you getting?”

“Breakfast sandwich, turkey sandwich, ham sandwich,” Steve recounts. “And I’m getting one of these cookies, too.” You smile and Steve presses a kiss to your forehead. “Take some meds, princess. And get some sleep. I’ll be back before you know it.” You nod and obey his direction as he walks out of the bedroom and the apartment. You sip you tea and scroll through your phone for a minute before the NyQuil kicks in and knocks you out.

You wake up to Steve hot body wrapped around you as he dozes, spooning you comfortably on the couch. At least it would’ve been comfortable. You would’ve normally loved it.

You felt completely stifled.

“Stevie, too hot,” you whine and attempt to press away from him.

He groans and stretches before muttering a soft “What’s wrong?”

“You’re too hot,” you whimper trying to struggle out of the throw blanket.

“Calm down. I’ll help you.” He untangles you and tosses the blanket to the chairs. “Better?”

You hum positively.

He sighs and you hear music playing from the TV. “We fell asleep?” You ask as you crack your eyes open to see the credits playing from the movie you were watching.

“You’ve seen Avatar enough times to know all the lines. We didn’t miss much.” You hear the smile in Steve’s voice as he rubs your stomach softly.

You giggle and sing along to I See You with your croaky sick voice. Steve laughs and rolls on to his back. Well, as much as he can on the crowded couch.

“How you feeling, princess?”

You yawn and nod. “A little better. I’m enjoying just being home with you. Sucks I have to be sick.”

“I’m enjoying the vacation,” Steve yawns. “What are we watching next?” He goes back to the Disney+ menu to scroll through your recommendations.

“The Orville! Or Miraculous Ladybug! Are there new Miraculous episodes?”

Steve chuckles. “Let’s check. Shit, looks like they uploaded the rest of season 5.”

“Run it, Cap!” You grin.

“Popcorn?”

You nod and get up to go to the kitchen.

“Take some cough medicine while you’re up,” Steve instructs.

You sigh and but follow his orders. You were getting better under Dr. Rogers supervision so you couldn’t knock him. You just had a bad cough and a migraine that wouldn’t go away no matter what medication you took. But all your other symptoms cleared up in a couple of days.

He had to be doing something right.

You toss a bag of popcorn in the microwave and look through the pile of pills for your cough meds.

You grab two bottles of water and deposit them on the coffee table when there’s a knock at the door.

“Who’s that?” Steve mutters narrowing his eyes.

“Maybe Amazon?” You shrug. You start to walk over to get it but Steve easily over takes you.

Doesn’t stop you from peaking around him to see who it is.

It’s just Bucky.

“What are you doing here?” Steve greets.

Of course he’d be the only one brave enough to come visit when you’re this sick. Super soldier immune systems are no joke.

“Just came to check on you two,” Bucky grins as Steve lets him in.

“Hey, Buck,” you smile. He pulls you into a hug and presses a kiss to your forehead. It was his standard greeting for you. It always felt so warm and comfortable.

“Sorry for the mess,” you whisper.

“You’re sick, doll. Don’t apologize,” he sighs and follows Steve to the living room.

“How’s it going? Getting any better?”

“From when I first got sick, way better,” you smile.

“She still has a bad cough and gets random fevers,” Steve sighs, pulling you into his lap after you bring back a bowl of popcorn. “But one day at a time.” You nod and snuggle into his embrace.

“You two will never stop being disgusting,” Bucky sighs watching you as he falls into the arm chair. “As much as I love you, I didn’t come by just to check on you, doll face. Stevie. Wanna go to Istanbul?”

“No,” Steve states firmly.

“Nat’s in Brazil and Sam’s in California. I don’t have back up.”

“You can’t throw a stick without hitting a super powered being. Go find one of them.”

“Steve, are you seriously saying no?”

“Yes.” Steve states resolutely. “My best girl is sick. I’m not leaving her like this.”

“Stevie, I’m feeling much better. You don’t have to stay behind because of me-“

“No, princess. Buck. I’m retired. Which means I don’t have to work if I don’t want to. I love you, you know I do, but I don’t want to go. I want to stay right here and take care of my princess. Any other time, I’d suit up but right now, she needs me.”

Bucky looks between you and Steve. “Okay,” Bucky says simply.

“Okay?” Steve asks, leaning back on the couch and pulling you along like a security blanket. Bucky would say whatever he wants to Steve but he watches his language around you.

“Yeah, I get it. I’ll ask Okoye or track down that Moon Knight fellow. He hangs out in the Middle East sometimes.”

“You have so many options,” Steve smiles. “I have to draw a line somewhere.”

“Or we’ll just keep dragging you out and it’ll be like you never stopped,” Bucky sighs, leaning back in the recliner.

“When are you leaving?”

“Couple of days.”

“Then you can watch a couple of episodes with us. Want some popcorn?” Steve pushes the bowl closer to his best friend.

Bucky stayed for a few hours, took a nap, ate dinner, then said goodnight.

You turned on Steve the second the door closed. “You don’t have to stay behind because of me.”

“I’m not doing it because of you. I’m doing it because I love you and I don’t want to leave you alone while you’re sick. I’m going to marry you one day and that’s part of the vows, isn’t it?” He smirks and you’re sure your fever came back because you suddenly feels faint.

The two of you didn’t talk about marriage often but when you did, you alway felt flushed and flustered.

“Come on, my little princess. Let’s get to bed early. You’ve had an eventful day.” He scoops you up by the backs of your thighs and carries you to the bathroom to wash up for bed. You both brush your teeth and shower together, just like you’ve done all week.

And you end it all curled up in Steve’s strong arms. You’re quickly getting used to this.

“I like having you home,” you sigh as he holds you against him.

“I like being home. I could really get used to this.”

“This is what retirement actually looks like, baby,” you smile.

“I think I might actually do it one day.” You hear the smile in Steve’s voice making you giggle.

“I know better. The second I start feeling better, you’ll be back out there on them streets.”

“You aren’t feeling better, are you?” Steve questions and presses you down on your back to get a better look at you. You let out a fake cough. “That’s what thought.” He presses a soft kiss to your lips and you can’t help your smile.

“One more?”

“Spoiled little princess.” But he happily obliges.

“I’m your spoiled little princess,” you remind him.

“I guess I have to keep taking care of you.”

You nod in agreement. “And keep giving me cuddles and kisses?”

“And keep giving you all the cuddles and kisses you could ever need.” He presses another kiss to your lips and pulls you back into his embrace.

You lie in his arms for a moment. “Stevie, I really am feeling much better,” you insist.

He hums softly but ignores you otherwise.

“It’s true. I barely have a cough anymore…”

“I don’t care what you have to say, I’m not leaving.” You giggle softly and snuggle into his arms.

For the first time in your almost two year relationship, he said no to saving the world. For you. You can’t keep the smile off of your face as you fall asleep in the only place you want to be: in Steve’s arms.

Master List

#Steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x black!reader #Steve rogers x black female reader #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x female reader

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icarusbetide · 1 month

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this miniature portrait of hamilton, apparently done on january 11 1773 (16th birthday present, if we're going by 1757, perhaps? from who?) makes me laugh because he looks so young. in just 2-3 years he would join the new york militia, and then fight in the continental army and meet george washington. you know that anecdote about how a soldier saw hamilton's company and went "wtf is this skinny kid doing here" only to learn that he was the captain? that makes a lot more sense now.

he came to america in 1772, so this means he would've looked even younger when he was actually on st. croix, bossing everyone around at cruger's firm. can you imagine being a sea captain or business associate and getting reprimanded by an even smaller version of this dork? jesus christ it must have been a nightmare to work with him.

#look at that haircut #he got the short bang ponytail combo #i want to know if hamilton kept this miniature himself #because if so i can imagine elizabeth teasing him about it #their version of looking at highschool yearbooks actually #since betsey showed him her drawings #alexander hamilton #historical hamilton #amrev

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tricornonthecob · 6 months

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an offering: Connecticut himbo with a promising career as morale officer.

#my art #sketch #himbo #continental soldier #pinup #amrev #I'm sorry to put this in your tags amrev community #liberty's kids #udney wolf hutchinson

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missluthorwillseeyounow · 1 year

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Codename: Red Daughter

Kara is eyeing her purse, it's small but one could fit a handgun in there if one wanted. Lena deliberately sets it down on the sideboard, and Kara's left eyebrow twitches. "What, are you gonna shoot me again?"

Kara looks royally pissed, and Lena can’t help the smirk that pulls on her lips. "Well, the night's not over yet."

Kara glowers at her, but instead of intimidating Lena, she just finds it cute. "You shot me."

Lena shrugs her shawl off. "With a tranquilizer dart."

"Oh, my mistake," Kara scoffs. "You shot me and drugged me."

"Sarcasm is adorable on you, darling." Lena approaches her with a fond smile. "But you had a clear shot. Even your incompetent little DEO friends could see that. You know as well as I do that it would have looked suspicious if I didn't shoot you before you could shoot me."

She straddles Kara, who looks up at her with the cutest pout even as she pulls Lena's hips flush against hers. "That's not the point. I'm still mad at you."

"No, the point is: The half-life of that drug I gave you is 4 hours. It's barely 10 o'clock. You must still be feeling the effects of it." She slips her hand over Kara's collarbone which is unnaturally flushed. "You have exactly 6 hours until the drug I gave you wears off."

Lena gives Kara a wicked, challenging smile. "What do you plan to do about it?"

...

Later, when the aftershocks of her last orgasm finally die down, Kara slumps forward, panting into Lena's shoulder. "What on earth was in that drug you gave me? Stimulants? Some kind of aphrodisiac?"

And then Lena laughs breathlessly, slipping her arms around her. "That was just a mild sedative, it would have worn off before you even got here. This," she gestures at their sweaty, sticky bodies, "was all you, Supergirl."

....

Back at the DEO, Lex Luthor examines the small dart in his hand intently. The knocking on his office door barely registers and he mutters a distracted "Enter."

Alex Danvers, ever efficient, gets straight to the point with her report. "Red Daughter has been cleared by medical, sir. She's sleeping off the drug. I saw her home personally myself."

Lex turns the dart over in his fingers, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth "Oh, Lena...." he tuts under his breath in amusement.

Danvers frowns a little in confusion, but she doesn't question him. She's a good little soldier, this one. Lex gives her a beatific smile. "Tell me, Director Danvers. Statistically, how many people are killed by this sedative?"

"In that dose, sir? Likely none."

"Exactly." A grim smile appears on Lex's face. ".... You might want to check on your sister, Director. I think you'll find that whatever drug this is my fool of a sister dosed her with, she's not sleeping it off."

______________

A little supercorp spy AU based on the Earth prime thing where Lex is the head of the DEO. It's a no powers AU, but Alex and Kara are both working with the DEO (and as you probably already figured out, Kara's code name is Red Daughter). Lena is actively working against Lex, but she crosses paths with Kara, who begins to doubt Lex's intentions, and together they team up to expose Lex and bring him down.

Kiiiiiiiinda related to this one, but not really. I just went nuts after seeing The Continental trailer and then I remembered this AU, so here you go.

#supercorp #supergirl #lena luthor #katie mcgrath #melissa benoist #kara danvers #me trying to art #me trying to write #there is literally no other plot in this au. this is all there is

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gotham-ruaidh · 9 months

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I was so thrilled to see in 7x08 "Turning Points" the beautiful visit between Simon and Jamie Fraser, as Simon lays dying. It's one of my favorite scenes in An Echo In The Bone, and the actors played it so well.

But what struck me was something simple yet extraordinary.

Jamie wears his kilt during the visit.

Remember that in the aftermath of Culloden, in August 1746 the Dress Act was passed. It banned men from wearing tartan, kilt, and plaid, and all other manner of Highland dress.

The Second Battle of Saratoga took place on October 7, 1777. When the Dress Act was still in effect.

Jamie Fraser wears his Fraser plaid, proudly, in the British camp. As a Continental soldier who knows and cherishes his Scottish roots. Wearing clothing that is illegal in Britain.

It's moving, and daring, and so very Jamie.

#outlander #outlander 07x08 #jamie fraser

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the-authoress-writes · 15 days

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Up Where We Belong

Part One

Pete “Maverick” Mitchell x Writer!reader

Synopsis: When a writer experiencing horrible writer’s block goes to the Apple Valley Airshow for inspiration, she meets a certain older, daring naval aviator, leading to maybe a little more than just inspiration.

Warnings: Mentions of hospice and family member deaths, age gap (reader is in their late thirties to early forties).

But really, this is just fluff.

Author’s Note: The plot bunnies have reproduced at an unholy rate, and I am so stupid for writing this, especially since I have another chapter of “Wherever You Go”, to write, the first chapter of “Safe and Sound” and a MavDad story to finish.

The second part and another Mav story is lined up, but at this point, I’m not going to complain, because at least I’m writing, and Mav is finally getting more of my writerly attention.

We’ll see what gets finished next, 😂.

#writerlife

Again, I name a story after a song, from another movie about the Navy, funnily enough.

(Only three of my stories on my masterlist are not named after songs—I can’t stop, apparently)

So here we go!

She had always been somewhat interested in planes—it was hard not to be, when most of her family was in commercial aviation.

Her father had flown for nearly thirty years for American, her younger brother was currently a first officer coming up on his command upgrade with Delta, and her grandfather, whom she affectionately called PopPop, had flown for Continental.

Some of her fondest memories were looking over her grandfather’s maps and airport diagrams, and sitting on his lap while he taught her how to use an analog flight computer.

But one day, when she was home from her freshman year of college, where she was taking her degree in English, her grandfather took her up to the attic to show her something.

It was a footlocker from World War II, the faded paint on the outside reading “USAAF”.

“This was your granduncle Joseph’s—my eldest brother.

He was a P-51 pilot.

He ran many successful missions in his aircraft until he got shot down saving his wingman’s life, near the end of the war.”

PopPop opened the footlocker, revealing a faded American flag folded into a tricorn lying neatly atop several dark greenish-brown uniforms.

PopPop gently lifted the flag and uniforms out of the footlocker, uncovering yellowed, brittle-looking maps, a compass set, and a thick stack of letters, tied together with a black ribbon.

It was the stack of letters that PopPop lifted out, and held out to her. “Look at these, and read them.”

She did, and the story the letters contained was beautiful and heartbreaking.

Her granduncle had fallen in love with a woman who was a member of the French Resistance, named Céline, whom he’d met during a covert resupply mission, and they even had plans to marry after the war.

But she’d died in a skirmish with German soldiers in Paris, leaving him so bereft that he’d taken to writing letters to her specter, just to have an outlet for his grief.

The last letter in the pile was heartwrenching, where her granduncle Joseph talked about how he was only living because she would want him to, only being careful in the air because she’d want him to.

She’d cried reading the letters, and she’d asked PopPop why he’d wanted her to read the letters.

“I wanted someone else to know their story,” he’d simply replied.

“No one else knows?”

He hummed, considering his answer. “Sometimes you keep some things to yourself until the right person to tell comes along.”

A few years passed, and when PopPop was on hospice, the two of them were watching “Band of Brothers”, when she remembered Uncle Joe, as she’d taken to calling him in her head.

“What’s going on in that bright head of yours, darling?” PopPop’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Oh, uh, nothing much, I was just remembering Uncle Joe.

Thinking that he and Céline deserved better.”

“They did.”

She shook her head, “I wish I could write them a happier ending, you know?”

PopPop hummed weakly. “Well, why don’t you?

If anyone could do it, it would be you.

If you do that, I’m sure in a few years, those English professors of yours would be saying that they taught a great American author.”

She was shocked and touched. “Wha—I—well, I guess I could, but, are—y-you’d be okay with that, PopPop?”

He laid a cold hand on hers, “I wouldn’t trust it to anyone else, my dear girl.”

“Okay,” she smiled tearily, and nodded, the two of them returning their attention to the episode.

A week later, PopPop passed, and many things happened over the ensuing years that caused the idea of writing about Uncle Joe to be put on the back burner.

In fact, she forgot all about it, until she was sitting on her couch a couple of weeks after having been let go from her job as an English teacher at her local high school.

She was mindlessly watching an episode of some show she couldn’t even remember the name of, when her eyes landed on the footlocker which PopPop had given to her in his will.

The memory of PopPop encouraging her to write about Uncle Joe came back to her, and she paused the episode, strode over to the footlocker, carefully opened it, and drew out the letters.

Madly, over the course of the next several hours, she reread the letters, numerous research-related tabs quickly opening up on her phone, tablet, and laptop.

As months passed, she made good progress on her first draft, but somewhere along the way, about slightly less than halfway through her intended story beats, she hit the dreaded dead end, writer’s block in full force.

Rereading the letters did nothing—every line she wrote, she deleted; she felt lost, and like she’d completely lost Uncle Joe and Céline’s voices.

She felt right back at square one.

Then, one day, as she was looking at her brother’s latest Facebook reel from his layover in Korea, she saw an advertisement for the Apple Valley Airshow, which would feature an aerobatic demonstration with an actual, airworthy P-51.

Maybe seeing the aircraft her Uncle flew would shake something loose in her brain so she could move forward.

She didn’t even hesitate—she immediately booked a ticket, and prepared herself to take down a lot of notes.

The airshow was absolutely wonderful, and even though she never got as into aviation as the rest of her family, it was still something which fascinated her, and seeing the planes made her marvel all over again at the miracle that was aviation, how humankind had successfully taken the skies for itself through brutally elegant means.

Finally, it was time for the reason she’d come—the emcee began, “Now, everyone, you’re all in for a treat, because up next, we have a nearly eighty-year-old aircraft, a P-51K named Bianca, and she’ll be giving us an aerobatic demonstration!

So let’s give a warm Apple Valley Airshow welcome to Bianca and her owner and pilot, US Navy Captain Pete Mitchell!”

She clapped along with everyone else, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the P-51.

Soon, the sound of a propeller engine grew louder and louder, and then, there she was.

Bianca was gorgeous, gleaming silver with red markings, the American star roundel on her side.

The shining aircraft got closer and closer to the ground, towards the crowd, and just as she was about to worry that the P-51 was in an upset condition, the plane pulled up slightly, buzzing the transfixed people.

Laughing in awe and delight, she clapped with everyone, and watched as the daring pilot put the plane through a series of hair-raising spirals, rolls, dives, and elegant, breathtaking passes with such precision, skill, and ease, just knowing that whoever was flying that old girl had aviation in his blood as surely as it ran in hers; it made her wonder what her granduncle would say about how the venerable fighter was being flown.

Before she knew it, the demonstration was over, and with another low pass and wing wave, the P-51 flew off to land.

It actually took her a moment to come back to herself, she was so stunned by what she saw, and she knew she had to see Bianca up close.

After asking for directions to the flight line, she scanned the row of planes, eventually spying a flash of red.

She walked over, catching sight of a tall, mustached man a few years younger than her, standing in front of the aircraft, wearing a borderline-obnoxiously-loud Hawaiian shirt unbuttoned over a white tank and jeans, stereotypical Ray-Bans pushed up onto his head.

“Excuse me?”

“Yes?” the man replied.

“Is this the P-51 which flew a few minutes ago?

She is a P-51, right?”

“That’d be a yes to both questions, ma’am.”

She chuckled grimly at the idea that her age was maybe showing enough for her to be ma’am-ed by someone only a few years younger than her. “Are you the owner?”

He scoffed, good-naturedly. “Nah, that’ll be my dad.

Hey Dad, someone wants to talk to you!”

A moment later, a man stepped out from under the P-51, and she’d absolutely be lying if she said her breath didn’t catch.

First off, if she had to guess, he was older than her, but there was something about him which made him seem younger than his age.

Then there was the fact that he was absurdly good looking—ridiculously so, in fact; impossibly raven-dark hair, mischievously sparkling, brilliant green eyes, and a physique that people half her age would kill for, all sinewy muscle, visible with the snug white t-shirt and jeans he was wearing.

The final nail in the proverbial coffin was his smile—God, it belonged in a museum, because it was a work of art, and coupled with his roguish air, everything about him screamed the most delicious kind of trouble, sending echoes of Whoopi Goldberg’s voice saying, “You in danger, girl,” through her head.

“Hi,” he began, extending his hand.

Luckily for her, she was quick on the draw, and extended her own hand, proffering a “Hi,” of her own, though she kicked herself at the fact that the next words out of her mouth were, “Are you the owner?”

Oh, well—couldn’t win them all.

His grip was firm and calloused, but gentle, without the cool metal band she expected on his fourth finger, quick eyes observing the lack of even a pale band of skin on the same finger, and she shook herself from the observation in time to hear his, “That’s me—Pete Mitchell, you can call me Mav.”

At her quizzical look, he continued, “It’s short for my callsign, Maverick—I’m Navy.”

She nodded, “The emcee did say you were Navy, and that tracks; judging from that impressive demonstration, you don’t strike me as the kind who blends in.”

“Thank you—I aim to please,” he grinned.

Miraculously, she managed to ignore his brilliant, beautiful smile, somehow mustering a “Well, you certainly delivered,” before she introduced herself.

A cough from the younger man, Pete’s son, made her realize that she hadn’t let go of Pete’s hand, and vice versa, which caused the two of them to practically spring apart.

“Oh, uh, this is my son, Bradley,” Pete introduced the younger man, reaching nearly comically up to wrap an arm around Bradley’s shoulders.

“Nice to meet you, Bradley,” she replied, trying to recollect herself while her mind acted like it was the first time she’d interacted with a good-looking man.

“Nice to meet you too, ma’am.”

“I look that bad, do I?” she chuckled.

“Just the way he was raised,” Pete proudly said, patting his son on the back.

Embarrassingly, she just then remembered the reason she was here. “Oh, I—I actually had a few questions for you, Pete, about the P-51, because I’m writing a book, and I wanted to get some details.”

His eyes lit up. “Details about this old girl, huh?

I can do that; come on, let me show you around.” He moved to the side of the aircraft and gestured grandly. “Bianca here’s a Dallas-built North American P-51K, with a Packard V-1650-7 engine and an 11 foot diameter Aeroproducts propeller.

She was donated to the Civil Air Patrol in 1946, and I acquired her in 2001.

I’m not sure if she ever saw combat, because her military flight logs were lost, but I know for a fact that she routinely patrolled the California skies way back when.

Let me show you the controls.”

He nimbly boosted himself up to the wing and held his hand out to her. “Come on up.”

“Uh, is this a wise decision?” she asked, glancing between his hand and the wing. “She is nearly eighty-years-old.”

Pete laughed, “She’s stronger than she looks, and these girls were made to withstand this sort of thing, come on.”

Deciding to trust his judgment, she took his hand and jumped up to the wing at the same time as he pulled her up, causing extra momentum which propelled her body into his.

He caught them on the edge of the cockpit, and after a second, she realized that she was pressed up against his body, both hands resting against his…very solid chest.

She prayed that her suddenly pounding heart and the burning flush on her cheeks could be discounted as a reaction to her stumble.

“I’m so sorry,” she breathed, scrambling back to put some distance between them for her sanity’s sake, while trying not to fall off either wing edge.

“Eh,” he waved off, “that’s my fault, I should have said I’d pull you up,” as he shifted to kneel on the wing. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she replied breezily, “I believe you were about to show me the controls?”

“Mm-hmm, come here.”

They slowly adjusted themselves into a configuration that enabled them both to see into the cockpit, and he pointed out the many gauges—explaining each one—and the literal stick stick, which looked nothing like the controls of any aircraft she’d seen in person or in the movies, as well as her general flight capabilities and technical specifications.

A further glance to the right showed something she didn’t expect to see. “I thought the P-51 was a single seat aircraft?”

Pete absentmindedly rubbed the back of his neck, “They are—I made a… few modifications.”

“Oh.”

“You want to sit in her?” he offered, gesturing to the pilot’s seat.

She was not about to pass up an opportunity like that. “I—wh—sure!”

He carefully helped her into the cockpit, and once settled, she breathed in and out while she absorbed this moment, and imagined her granduncle sitting in a seat similar to this one, looking out at the boundless sky. “Wow,” she reverently murmured.

“I know, right?”

“This is amazing, that aircraft like this is still around and still flying, I mean—this is history,” she said, getting slightly emotional.

“It is; she is.”

After a few beats longer, she sighed, and reached for his hand so she could get out, and he carefully eased her out of the cockpit, onto the wing, then both of them back onto the ground.

“Thank you, for showing me around, this was really helpful, Pete, I think this really helped me.”

“You’re welcome,” he nodded easily. “If I may ask, what kind of book are you writing?”

For the briefest second, she instinctively recoiled from the idea of telling the story, but then, some part of her heart said that Pete Mitchell was someone she could tell this story to. “It’s uh, a fictional version of my granduncle Joe’s love story; he was a P-51 pilot during World War II, and he was in love with a woman in the French Resistance named Céline.” She turned to look at Bianca’s gleaming fuselage. “But they both died in the war; she was killed by the Germans, and he got shot down saving his wingman soon after.

I never even knew until my first year of college, when my grandfather told me the story through the love letters my granduncle and Céline wrote.

When my grandfather was dying, I told him that I wished they had a happy ending, and… well, he told me to write it for them, since I was an English major.

So here I am,” she shrugged, turning to face Pete.

He looked grave and touched. “That’s… that’s beautiful.”

“Thank you, I have to admit, I’ve wondered if what I was doing was disrespectful.”

“I know quite a few people who deserved happy endings that didn’t get them,” he glanced into the distance, a wistful, pained look in his eyes. “If I can help at least two people who didn’t have their happy endings in this world get it somehow, I’m more than willing to help.”

She sincerely replied, “Thank you for the validation,” wondering what his story was.

“You’re welcome.

And uh… you know what?

Gimme a second.”

He leapt back onto the P-51’s wing, and rummaged through the cockpit, pulling out a flight log book and a pen, hastily writing something on a page, before he tore it out, and leapt back down.

“Here, it’s my number—if you had any more questions, feel free to call, I’d be happy to answer them.”

If she had been placed in a similar situation as this maybe twenty years ago, she’d have probably done something to embarrass herself, because this—things like this didn’t happen to her—they only happened in movies, but here she was.

He gave her his number—yes, it was if she had any research questions, but still.

‘Get a grip, woman, just because you didn’t see a ring doesn’t mean he isn’t in a relationship,’ she told herself, trying to project “Respectable Professional Woman”, while her inner adolescent was trying its level best to come out.

“Th—thank you,” she managed to get out, with only a minute stammer on the first syllable.

“I’m serious, call if you need anything—I mean—there’s not a lot of people out there who can tell you what it’s like to actually fly one of these beauties.”

“Be careful,” she chuckled, already determined not to call unless it was absolutely dire, “You don’t know if I might take you up on that offer.”

“It’s what I gave you my number for,” Pete winked, and she commended herself for keeping it together.

Deciding to quit while she was ahead, and while she still seemed like a normal human being, she came in for final approach, as her dad would put it, with, “Alright—I better go, I’ve already taken too much of your time.”

“It’s fine, it’s always a pleasure to talk to someone about this girl.”

“Thank you again,” she stated, honestly grateful, feeling the creative juices flowing and simmering in the background.

“You’re welcome.”

And with that, she walked away, exhaling evenly for so many reasons.

That night, she wrote and wrote just as she expected, and the story was flowing.

That is, until she hit another wall just before the next weekend.

And this one was even more stubborn than the first.

It didn’t help that she had written herself into a corner with this dogfight scene she was on—she had no way of knowing if the tactics were sound, and she was thinking of completely cutting it, but it seemed so stilted without it, and she had no idea of how to avoid writing this scene.

But one part of that thought, she realized, wasn’t true.

Her gaze landed on her coffee table.

The sheet of flight log paper with ten numbers written on them stared tauntingly back at her, daring her to call Pete.

“Nope, no, I am not going to do it,” she told herself. “No—absolutely not.

I’m sure he has better things to do than answer stupid questions.

No—I will not call him.”

The paper raised a nonexistent eyebrow.

“No!” was her battle cry, and she turned back to her laptop screen, but it offered no relief.

The depressing reality of her blinking, unmoving cursor cackled at her in harmony with the flight log paper.

It was like that healthy cereal ad from years ago, with the little girl in a prim uniform, enticingly calling “Donuts?”

However, after ten more minutes, the dictatorship of the blank page grew too cruel and harsh, and she folded like a house of whatever was more insubstantial than cards.

“Fine,” she muttered, snatching up the paper. “I’ll call, but if he doesn’t answer, it’s no skin off my back—I’ll manage… somehow.”

At least that’s what she told herself.

She dialed the number, heart pounding as the phone rang…

And rang…

And rang.

She was just about to breathe a sigh of conflicted relief and hang up, but then the line clicked, and she heard a slightly breathless “Pete Mitchell.”

“Hi,” she blinked, cursing herself for not thinking through what she was going to say. “I don’t know if you remember me, we met at the Apple Valley Airshow—”

“__, right?

The writer.”

“Yeah, that’s me, you said I could call if I had any questions,” she scratched her head.

“Uh-huh.

I’m guessing you have one,” she could hear the smile in his voice.

“More like a lot, really.

I’ve unfortunately written myself into a corner, it’s this dogfight scene, and there’s no way I can currently remove it without sacrificing practically all of my progress since last week.

I just need to know if the tactics are sound.”

“Huh.”

“I—you know, I can figure it out myself, if it’s too much trouble—”

He interrupted, “No, it’s no trouble, I’m more than willing to help, in fact… uh, this might sound—weird and uncomfortable—or—both, really, but if you want, why don’t you come out to my hangar tomorrow, we can talk about this, rework your scene if we need to, without having to do video calls or text or email.”

“Oh,” she breathed, eyes wide.

“I promise I’m not a serial killer or anything,” he chuckled.

“I—thank you for the reassurance, by the way—but I mean, that’s a lot of confidence in how well I can write a dogfight.”

“It can’t be all that bad,” he assured.

“I’ll just prepare to be ripped to shreds,” she half-teasingly replied.

Pete snorted. “Even if it were that bad, I wouldn’t rip it to shreds—I save that for my new students.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t know what’s worse, being torn apart or the porcelain treatment.”

“How about a balance, then?”

“I’d be very happy with that.”

“So… is that a yes to coming out to my hangar?”

“I… suppose it is,” she replied, before she could convince herself otherwise.

She was a mature, responsible adult, and she was capable of being said mature, responsible adult.

(And if time permitted, she was even capable of looking respectfully, when he wasn’t watching.)

(She was only human, after all.)

“Perfect, I’ll send you the address; I have to warn you, it’ll probably be a bit of a drive, is that okay?”

“That’s fine, after all, where else will I find someone with experience flying the P-51?”

“You could always try the local VFW post,” he joked.

“What are the odds my local VFW has a former P-51 pilot?

I’ll go with the expert I’ve already met.”

“Alright, alright, I already agreed to help, no need to butter me up,” he lightly said, humorously.

“Just send the address,” was her amused response.

And that was how she found herself on US-395 North making the three-and-a-half hour drive from her apartment in San Bernardino to the Mojave, praying that she wouldn’t somehow make a fool of herself today.

To be continued…

Next Part

Was part of this story inspired by Atonement?

Maybe.

I didn’t really have the movie in mind when I wrote the plot device, but I realized the similarity after the fact.

Analog flight computer

USAAF

Band of Brothers

The Apple Valley Airshow takes place every year in the town of Apple Valley, located in San Bernardino, California.

(I considered setting this story at the annual Miramar Airshow, which takes place at MCAS (formerly NAS) Miramar, but I imagine that Mav would probably want to avoid going to MCAS Miramar for obvious reasons.)

Roundel

I don’t think that most pilots would do very daring aerobatic stunts in a plane as old as the P-51, just because she’s a darn P-51, and she’s a flying piece of history, but this is Mav, he absolutely knows what his girl can handle, I’m sure he knows how to make something look more crazy than it actually is, and bottom line, let’s just suspend our disbelief, 😂.

Did I introduce Mav in that way just so I could use that gif?

Probably absolutely.

It’s a great shot, and I do not blame me.

“You in danger, girl.” Timestamp 1:35

All the information about the P-51 is taken from the information available about the model and history/registration of Tom’s P-51, except for the details of her name and the military flight logs being missing, as the history available for N51EW never mentions if she saw actual WWII combat.

She is registered in the FAA database with the serial number 44-12840, and her name since 2006 has been “Kiss Me Kate”.

(I know why she’s named this, and it hits something in my heart that Tom never bothered to rename her.)

Her name in this story will be explained later, but those who follow me on my main blog, @oh-great-authoress, might have a hunch as to why I named the P-51 “Bianca”.

The ad I mentioned was a real Kellogg’s Special K ad.

VFW

The travel time between San Bernardino and Mav’s hangar is estimated using the travel time from San Bernardino to NAWS China Lake, and then a further hour and twenty minutes from there.

Taglist

@valmare

@callsign-skydancer

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88

@tadomikiku

@malindacath

@aviatorobsessed

@lynnevanss

@djs8891

If you’d like to join my taglist, just send me an ask!

#not me 👀 at men literally old enough to be my father #but my reader DEFINITELY is—and he’s not old enough to be HER father #bahaha 🤣#top gun: maverick #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun: maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun: maverick fic #top gun maverick fic #pete maverick mitchell x reader #pete mitchell x reader #pete maverick mitchell #pete mitchell #tom cruise

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on-partiality · 5 months

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December 19th, 1777, the day George Washington marched his troops into Valley Forge!

Hello everyone! Today's the day George Washington and his army moved to the Valley Forge Encampment for the winter (except today may not be the day because while most sources claim it was the 19th a select few say it was the 18th also I live in the Southern Hemisphere and I'm not entirely sure what day it is for you North-folk). Also sorry for any bad quality, I'm writing this at 1:12 AM on a Wednesday and I have not slept since Sunday.

Anyway about Valley Forge:

George Washington and his soldiers moved into the Valley Forge encampment on the 19th of December, 1777. George Washington chose to stay at the Valley Forge for multiple reasons, number 1 being that it wasn't too far from the capital of Philadelphia, which at the time was being occupied by the British, and the Continentals had to make sure that they kept an eye on the redcoats because if they didn't then the redcoats could attack American citizens or take over random people's houses, something that they did rather frequently (think the Quartering Act), and the army wouldn't be there to fight back or wouldn't know that they were occupying a certain house. Also, they needed to know where the redcoats were in case they moved, because if they moved, they might be going off to battle and trying to do a surprise attack on the Continentals. Knowing where the British were made it so that surprise attacks couldn't be used against the Americans. + Valley Forge wasn't too close to the Philadelphia countryside, so the Army wouldn't bother the local farmers with the noise of thousands of soldiers training every day. And the Valley Forge was on high ground and surrounded by hills, so it'd be hard for the British to get to them.

About 11,000 soldiers and a few hundred of their wives, children, and friends made it to the Valley Forge, and if you're particularly observant, you may have noticed that in the image above, the soldiers aren't wearing any one uniform. This is because the Continental Army at this time was comprised of mainly little militia groups with their own distinct uniforms. Anyway, Valley Forge wasn't unenjoyable because of bad weather, but rather bad weather combined with a severe lack of supplies like shoes, shirts (really any clothing item), and food and drink. Washington estimated that nearly a third of his men didn't have shoes during the journey to Valley Forge, and quite a few of them didn't have a frock coat to protect them from the winter wind and rain. When they arrived at the camp, Washington gave orders to all of his men to build their own wooden huts and find some straw to use as bedding, as they didn't have enough blankets for everyone. Then Washington was informed by another senior officer that they had 25 barrels of flour and a little salt pork, and they were meant to somehow use that to feed the whole army. Washington wrote to Henry Laurens, the president of Congress at the time, about this issue. Washington and his aides-de-camp stayed in a two-story house made of stone, and Washington spent much of his time writing to Congress, asking for more supplies and defending himself against Congress' claims that he wasn't a good military leader and that he wanted total power, and he complained about the Conway Cabal (a group of three men who Congress decided to give as much power as the Commander-in-Chief). But outside of Washington's personal struggles, the Valley Forge encampment was all about training. When the Continentals were there, they trained for battle constantly and learned how to use bayonets properly, fight in a disciplined way, march in a near perfect straight line and execute commands quickly on the battle field.

Many generals helped George Washington during his struggle, both to show his competence and with his men. Lafayette got officers from Europe (mainly France and Poland) to help with the war; Henry Knox helped build defensive walls on the Valley Forge's hills to help the Continentals protect themselves against the British; Nathanael Greene and Anthony Wayne searched for farm animals from the country side; and probably most famously, Baron Frederich von Steuben taught the Americans all about fighting and took care of all of the training in fact he added some of his lessons into the Army's blue book and it was the official US military training manual for decades. Even Martha Washington helped by managing Washington's household, helping him with his letters to Congress, and bringing some cheer to the camp by entertaining the guests. By the spring of 1777, life at Valley Forge wasn't half bad. Washington figured out a way he could get enough supplies into camp, and everyone happily celebrated when they heard that France was officially their ally in the war. In June 1778 the Continentals happily marched out of the Valley Forge with heaps of new knowledge that they'd use to help them on the battlefield and eventually beat the British with.

#amrev #american revolution #american revolutionary war #american history #history #revolutionary war #valley forge #george washington #on this date #on this day #18th century #18th century america #revwar #military history

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digitalyarbs · 10 months

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The Face of Nathan Hale.

Nathan Hale, a distinguished American Patriot, soldier, and spy for the Continental Army during the American Revolutionary War, is immortalized in the face captured through a Photohop reconstruction of Frederick William MacMonnies' statue of Hale in City Hall Park, New York.

Born on June 6, 1755, Nathan Hale excelled academically and graduated with honors from Yale University in 1773. Soon after, in 1775, he joined a Connecticut militia unit and rapidly rose to the rank of first lieutenant within five months. He became a valued member of Knowlton's Rangers, a reconnaissance and espionage detachment established by General George Washington.

At the young age of just over twenty-one, Hale's courage and determination led him to volunteer for a perilous mission behind enemy lines before the Battle of Harlem Heights. Though lacking formal training in espionage, he succeeded in gathering vital information about British troop movements for a week.

Sadly, on September 21, 1776, during his return from a mission, Hale was captured and found in possession of an incriminating document written in Latin hidden in the sole of his shoe. Without a fair trial, General William Howe ordered his execution for spying, which was carried out the next morning, September 22, 1776. Hale spent his final night confined in the greenhouse of Howe's headquarters, and at dawn, he was led to the gallows, where he faced his death with remarkable courage, famously uttering, "I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country."

Nathan Hale's legacy lives on as America's first spy and a symbol of unwavering patriotism. In recognition of his selfless sacrifice and devotion, he was officially declared Connecticut's state hero on October 1, 1985.

Contemporary accounts paint a picture of a remarkable individual. Beyond his intelligence and athletic prowess in wrestling, football, and broad jumping, Hale was described as kind, gentle, religious, and exceptionally good-looking. With fair skin, light blue eyes, and hair, he stood just under six feet tall, captivating both men and women alike. His presence and character earned him the admiration and affection of all who knew him, and it was said that all the girls in New Haven were enamored by him.

yarbs.net

#nathan hale #american history #american revolution #conneticut #amrev #founding fathers #patriotisism

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bantarleton · 9 months

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Who Were the "Hessians"?

A good article from Facebook by Dr Alex Burns;

Myth 1): German troops were all Hessians.

Although most came from the mid-sized German state of Hessen-Kassel, troops from six different principalities (Hessen-Kassel, Braunschweig-Wolfenbüttel, Hessen-Hanau, Ansbach-Bayreuth, Waldeck, and Anhalt-Zerbst.) Indeed, the current leading progressive reenactment group portraying these soldiers represents Regiment Prinz Friedrich, essentially a garrison unit from Braunschweig-Wolfenbüttel.

If you include the larger, global war outside America, fought in places like Gibraltar and India, troops from the state of Hanover (Braunschweig-Lüneburg) also fought for the British outside of the Holy Roman Empire (the pre-German territorial entity.) So, while over 60% of these troops came from Hessen, they really hailed from all over the western and central Holy Roman Empire. As a result, it might be better to call them something other than Hessians. "Germanic" has been put forward, but that usually conjures up images of the fall of the Western Roman Empire.

Myth 2): They were mercenaries.

Imagine you are a soldier in the United States Army, serving in West Germany during the Cold War. You are stationed there because of longstanding agreements and alliances, which stretch back decades. The United States Government and the West German government have a financial understanding that helps maintain your presence in the region. Are you a mercenary? The situation was very similar for the German-speaking soldiers who fought in the American War of Independence, They had a longstanding relationship with Great Britain, stretching back decades. They had fought with alongside the British since the 1690s, both in continental Europe and in the British isles. As a result of the Hanoverian succession in 1714 (the British Royal family was drawn from Hanover) they had longstanding marriage connections with Great Britain. Horace Walpole, a British politician from the 1730s, referred to the Hessians as the Triarii of Great Britain.

These soldiers did not personally or corporately take on contracts from the British. they were members of state militaries: their governments were paid a subsidy by the British in order to fight in their wars. Frederick II (the Great) of Prussia, received subsidies from the British during the Seven Years War. As a result, the modern German term for these troops is *Subsidientruppen, *or subsidy troops. **Thus, it might be better to speak of the German-speaking subsidy troops, as opposed to calling them Hessians, or mercenaries. **Historians have argued that it might be fitting to call their countries "mercenary states". This is different from saying they were mercenaries.

Myth 3): They were sold to America because their princes were greedy and wanted to build palaces and pay for their illegitimate children.

The princes of the Western Holy Roman Empire lived in an incredibly dangerous world during the eighteenth century. Their territories were small, rural, principalities, trapped between the military giants of France, Austria, and Prussia. As a result, from the 1670s, these princes attempted to use subsidy contracts to build themselves larger armies, in order to preserve their independence. These subsidy contracts were a standard feature of European politics, diplomacy, and conflict resolution. They allowed the princes to better protect their small domains. None of the princes who formed subsidy contracts with Britain during the American War of Independence were doing something radically new or greedy. Instead, they were following on decades of practice which had allowed them to maintain their own independence. The Hessian (Hessen-Kassel) Landgraf Friedrich II actually used the funds from the contract, in part, to promote economic development and the textile industry in his territories. **Some of them had illegitimate children. Some had palaces. Portraying them as sex-crazed misers limits our understanding of the economic and security necessities which actually underpinned their subsidy policies. **Following the long-standing practices of their governments, princes in the Western Holy Roman Empire entered subsidy agreements to maintain the costs of their states.

Myth 4): They committed many brutal war-crimes in America.

The subsidy troops had been used in messy civil conflicts before. Hessian troops were used against the Jacobites in 1745-6, where they remarkably refused to take part in the repression against the Scottish Jacobites. Their troops were remembered in Perthshire, Scotland, as "a gentle race," and their commanding Prince (Friedrich II) declared, "My Hessians and I have been called to fight the enemies of the British crown, but never will we consent to hang or torture in its name." (Duffy, *Best of Enemies, *p. 133). English officers in the Seven Years War, noted that their troops were reprimanded for plundering more than Hessian forces. (Atwood, *The Hessians, *p. 173). In North America during the War of Independence, the Hessians once again behaved better than their British counterparts. Although there was a surge of fear about Hessian brutality early in the war, after the first few years of the war, Americans believed that the Hessians treated them better than British soldiers. Aaron Burr wrote of Hessian atrocities: "Various have been the reports concerning the barbarities committed by the Hessians, most of them [are] incredible and false." (Matthew Davis, *Memoirs of Aaron Burr, *Vol 1. p. 107). Comparing the brutality of the Napoleonic Wars with the American War of Independence, a Hessian veteran who served in both wars commented: "Everything which the author has subsequently seen in this regard greatly exceeds what one should term cruelty in America, which in comparison with more recent times, can be regarded as nothing more than a harmless puppet show." (Adam Ludwig von Ochs, *Betrachtungen Ueber die Kriegkunst, *60-61.) Hessian troops committed crimes in America, there is no doubt. What is clear is that these crimes were not excessive for an eighteenth-century conflict.

Myth 5): Many of them deserted to America, where life was better.

Many Americans claim Hessian ancestry. As a result, it is common to encounter the sentiment that these "mercenary" troops were simply waiting to switch sides. In reality, most of these troops returned to their homelands in the Holy Roman Empire. A very small number switched sides before the end of the war, a larger (but still small) percentage elected to remain in America after the war ended in 1783. Far from being an act of rebellion, the princes encouraged their subsidy troops to remain in America if they desire: this would cut costs, and make the process of slashing the military budget easier in peacetime. Most returned to celebrations, public parades, and being welcomed by loved ones. For more on exact data of desertions, as well as the subsidy-troops' return home, see Daniel Krebs' book, *A Generous and Merciful Enemy. *The majority of these troops remained loyal to their princes, and returned home to their own native lands.

Who Were the Hessians?

The experience of 37,000 soldiers mainly drawn from six small counties is not all one thing. There are elements of truth to each of the myths about the Hessians, but their story is more complex than the myths that are told about them in English-speaking circles in North America. They were drawn from a fascinating world in Central Europe with its own customs, practices, and traditions. They entered the American story, and as a result, it is worth taking the time to understand and remember their path in it in a complex way.

A "Hessian" Reading List:

Rodney Atwood: "The Hessians: Mercenaries from Hessen-Kassel in the American Revolution"

Friedrike Baer: "Hessians: German Soldiers in the American Revolutionary War"

Stephan Huck: "Soldaten gegen Nordamerika Lebenswelten Braunschweiger Subsidientruppen im amerikanischen Unabhängigkeitskrieg"

Charles Ingrao: "The Hessian Mercenary State: Ideas, Institutions, and Reform under Frederick II, 1760–1785"

Daniel Krebs: "A Generous and Merciful Enemy: Life for German Prisoners of War during the American Revolution"

#history #military history #18th century #american revolution #revwar #american war of independence #hessian #hessians #german

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