River Ambush

It was still very early morning when the command rode up to the river crossing. There were no bridges or boats, so the HUMVEEs couldn't cross - being non-amphibious models, after all - and the command had to use horses again for the time being.

"Remember your dispositions," Dundee said to his men, before turning to Tim. "Captain, take twelve men across as bait - I mean, skirmishers."

"First twelve men, follow me!" Tim shouted. The aforementioned twelve followed him across the river. Dundee watched them, then directed Sergeant Harriman's column into position. He then turned to Starbuck. "Joe, you hold your men until everyone else is across. If something is to happen, throw 'em in when you deem fit."

"Yes, sir."

After this, Wrong-Way Preston unsheathed his Canadian flag, but still held it upside down. Garfer smacked him with his hockey stick until he had it right.

Across the river, Tim ordered his men to split up, himself going straight towards the center. However, Michelle sensed something wrong, and lagged behind. She nervously fingered her shotgun. She heard someone come up behind her. Fearing it was Dave Jenkins or an Apache, she turned, but saw someone in a blue uniform. She breathed a sigh of relief, but still felt very nervous. The Apache in blue rode up behind her and screamed out "Bitch!" before sinking a knife into the back of her neck.The young scout toppled to the ground, dead, and soon another Apache appeared to root through her stuff.

Tim, meanwhile, reached the top of a plateau, seeing Aimee, Bill, and Sandra to his right. He waved his hat to Dundee, who acknowleged him by raising his pistol.

"All right, Sergeant Harriman, take 'em through," Dundee said.

"Yes, sir."

As Harriman's men began to ford the river, Tim began feeling more nervous. Maybe it was gut instinct; maybe it was the sounds he kept hearing. He saw two men in Union uniform ride up to him. He whistled Dixie, they didn't respond, and in the nick of time, Tim levelled his rifle and fired.

On the river bank, over a hundred Apache suddenly sprung up, firing arrows and rifles. Men began falling among the crossing party. Tristan was killed almost instantly; Dantethe1st was hit in the face with a rifle bullet and fell off his horse, mortally wounded, screaming unconvincingly. For the first minute, the command was in chaos, as several members of Dundee's party began falling before they could respond. Nathan took a bullet to his ankle; Lennie was shot in the head; Stubb's horse was hit and he fell into the river. The casualties were beginning to mount.

But by this time, the command had rallied somewhat, and were now bringing their superior firepower in return. Snake fired his assault weapons, taking out a nest of Apache riflemen singlehandedly. Mr. Smit, firing his Winchester legs with inhuman speed, skill, and precision, killed at least a dozen by himself. The men were starting to rally, and by now the Apache were starting to suffer heavy casualties. Armstrong fired his shotgun, knocking an Apache from a high tree; Harriman tried to take aim as well, but her horse fell over on her; she fell into the river.

At this point, Tim and his skirmishers appeared. "BACK TO THE RIVER!" he kept screaming as his men joined the fray. More Apaches pursued behind them, and several of their number fell killed or wounded as well. Marco Leone, however, made a suicidal last stand, firing his two Colt .45s at the dozens of Apache warriors. It was a hopeless gesture, but Marco held his own for five seconds before he finally decided, to hell with it, I want to live.

Just when the command seemed on the verge of getting it together, a second wave of Apaches attacked, war whooping, from the command's right flank. For a brief moment, it looked like the command would again be routed. Then, Joe Starbuck, with Garfer's command and his own brother still on the far bank, panicked and threw his men into the fray. One of Garfer's Canadians - Jacques Shellac, the French speaking Quebecois - fell, lanced, but the rest of the command pushed back the Apaches. Garfer's men actually performed better than most others of command, their hockey sticks proving to be quite deadly hand-to-hand weapons.

At this juncture, Dundee was trying to regroup his men and withdraw them back across the river. Even though they seemed to be doing rather well, they were still in a disadvantegious position. As he rode, Dundee's horse was shot out from under him, or so he claimed; actually, he couldn't ride worth a shit and just slipped out of the saddle. He was shaken but not badly hurt; he made it back to the far bank.

"Try and regroup on the far bank!" Dundee shouted.

"Marco, run them out!" Tim shouted to his subordinate.

Dundee looked around him as the last shots were fired; the Apaches had melted back into the wilderness; and his command began pouring back across the river.

"Keep moving, Joe," he said in disgust to his subordinate, "There's no one left to shoot at out here."

Dundee watched as the remnants of his command poured back across the river.

"Happy Thanksgiving!" he muttered in anger.

(Note: don't get upset or think your character died, until the next entry; I'll clear up who's all been killed, and who was just wounded, in the next chapter.)