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desolateice · 1 year

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Headcannon time:

When writing Root Beer Floats and Green Tea I had this genre I wanted to take a crack at which was, dating games. I wanted to have hints at all these other possible routes laid out that I would eventually get to. Which with the cobras was easy but when I got to the second film I tried to figure out how I was going to deal with Chozen. And as I watched the second film very very very slowly I realized how short the timeline was and to my amusement how many costume changes happened in essentially a few days time that made time wonky the way it always is in The Karate Kid universe I tried to figure out why. Why would Chozen, who wears Okinawan formal wear all the time and is upset about Daniel, an outsider being there, be trashing a dojo where his uncle learned karate? Would would he be digging up vegetables and destroying bonsai so readily for his uncle? And the answer I came up with was grief. One of the threads that continues to pull through all the films is grief and how we deal with it. It really cemented as a head cannon when I watched the fourth film, which I did want to include and originally planned to include in Root Beer Floats and Green Tea, however at that point the story was already massive and I was grieving myself and so what ended up happening was hints.

But in the Next Karate Kid, for those who haven’t seen it, Julie Pierce is being raised by her grandmother and she’s angry all the time. Snapping and rude and her grandmother keeps mistaking her for her dead daughter. And I realized while I was watching it again for the first time since I was little, that Julie is grieving. But it’s not a quiet sob in a corner type of grief, it’s an explosive angry grief where sometimes she says things she doesn’t mean and she doesn’t know what to do and she’s lost. And I looked at Chozen, living in a small village on Okinawa whose uncle taught karate, without any parents seemingly being raised by a somewhat distant unhappy uncle (at the time the new season hadn’t come out to confirm that). And the guy who left the village and upset his uncle returns right when the man who taught his uncle is sick and shortly after passes. And I thought oh, there’s no way Chozen doesn’t know Miyagi Sensei. And if you’ve ever lived in a small community and a person dies it tends to effect people. But Chozen isn’t just some village kid. His uncle was supposed to marry Yukie, the person taking care of Miyagi sensei. His uncle was taught by Miyagi sensei, was best friends with Miyagi sensei’s son once upon a time. There’s no way Chozen didn’t know Miyagi sensei better than just the average person in the village. So maybe he’s angry on behalf of his uncle. But what if he’s also angry on behalf of Miyagi sensei, whose son didn’t come home until he was on his death bed? That, to a kid who knew Miyagi sensei and respected him would feel extra cowardly. A level of cowardly that just confirmed and sealed everything his uncle believed. I mean okay the uncle jumps straight to fight to the death, but I mean people used to fight to the death over honor all the time and for dumb reasons. (See Hamilton, The Count of Monte Cristo, countless times throughout history, ect.) But the for all of those is that you usually had an out. A second or someone who could go talk to the other party and try and figure out a solution that didn’t end up in bloodshed. And I truly like to think that the original fall out could’ve been avoided. But Mr. Miyagi was a kid. He was what? 18? The love of his life was going to be married off to his best friend and he panicked? A duel of sorts is kind of a...normal thing for embarrassment of that level. But surely someone could’ve talked it out, come to an agreement of sorts. But from how Mr. Miyagi talks about it, he just ran off. Which I totally get. You don’t want to kill your best friend, you don’t want to even fight your best friend and you don’t want your death to be on his hands either so your best option is to flee. I mean he was 18. (ish) He hadn’t gained all that Miyagi wisdom. But to never contact your family? To never write your dad again? To not say hey pops I fell in love, we’re getting married, we have a kid. Well he probably couldn’t have actually because during the war I’m sure there was a lot of scrutiny on him for being Okinawan and if he wrote home who knows what would’ve happened? And it sucks. But to have never contacted his father again later? After the war? To never even sort of wonder, did my village survive the war? Did my father? Heck, what happened to his mother? Did he miss saying goodbye to her? Did she pass before he left? Anyway, I went on a tangent, let’s go back to Chozen and I’ll set my Mr. Miyagi and Sato and Yukie feelings aside for the moment. (There are so many!) Chozen is close(ish) to Miyagi Sensei. Just through his connections. It’s one degree separation at most. Not just some dude in the village, a small village, that everyone knows. But someone from stories he’s grown up his entire life with. And then he dies. Chozen already isn’t particularly popular right? Because of his uncle? I assume he’s already a grumpy kid. And then Mr. Miyagi has the gall to return and bring some American kid with him? Mind you, America and Okinawa have a rough history, heck the USA occupies a ridiculous amount of the island still. I know, Sato teaches American soldiers, but I assume based off of how Chozen interacts with Daniel in CK that they didn’t teach Miyagi secrets. But to pass on the knowledge to an outsider? And it could also be construed as Mr. Miyagi brought back up. Like some mob boss returning from the USA. We know Daniel’s not there for that, but Chozen and them know nothing about Daniel and his relationship with Mr. Miyagi. Heck they don’t know what Mr. Miyagi has been up to. And then Miyagi sensei dies. So all that tension, all that “I’m gonna fight you you coward” that Sato’s been fanning these flames of and Chozen is just lost and confused and grieving. Because here’s the thing, what if they were close? Instead of getting to spend time at Miyagi sensei’s death bed he’s got to be out of the way because Yukie is in charge and Mr. Miyagi is there. So he got shoo’d out by this guy who hasn’t been there for 40 years and his American student. Oh he’d be pissed. Heart broken and pissed and it’s so easy to be pissed when you’re grieving. And he’s not mad at Miyagi sensei no, he directs that anger at Mr. Miyagi and Daniel. Outsiders who came, who weren’t there when they should’ve been, and who brought death. Even if it wasn’t their fault at all. But he’s throwing it on them. And he’s backed up by Sato, who probably is also grieving, but that’s a different post. And then Daniel keeps making a fool of him. Poking holes in his scam, winning the bet with the ice, and it’s like salt in a wound. And he’s looking bad in front of his uncle. Who is his only family and all those emotions. Oof. Trying to keep his uncle proud of him and not letting that angry grief his uncle is feeling turn on him? And then his uncle he think dies in a storm and he’s just so lost. Like he’s lost everything. And he’s scared. Because I mean CK cannon, his parents are gone. All he has is his uncle. And he’s filled with so much grief that he’s just frozen because it’s stunning to have lost both Miyagi sensei and his uncle in such a short time. But then Daniel is out there, going into the storm saving people. Being a hero. And so is Mr. Miyagi. Proving Sato and Chozen wrong. They’re not cowards, they’re heroes and they’re brave. And the final straw is his uncle being alive and saved and rather than a reunion or a hug which I think he desperately needed because I doubt they’ve talked or worked through their individual grief, Chozen is cast out. All he has left that he is clinging very tightly to is fighting to the death, something I think got skewed terribly in his mind as the only option after hearing about it his entire life and it being Sato’s primary goal for the film. Because if he wins his uncle will see him again, if he looses, well his uncle will still see him. Because his uncle hasn’t seen him the entire film.

He’s not really family, he’s a lackey, a yes man, and he’s now a ghost. And it’s not like he has anyone else to go to. As Sato’s yes man he was already sort of not liked and then Miyagi Sensei is gone and he’s hurting and that makes you do dumb stuff. And I think he’s self destructive. He’s got all this anger and nowhere to direct it so he picks a choice. The story he’s heard over and over again. The fight that was supposed to happen but never did and that will solve everything. Sato versus Mr. Miyagi. But instead it’ll be Chozen versus Daniel. If he wins then he was right. If he loses then, he won’t be in pain any more. And maybe he’ll see Miyagi sensei again. But either way he won’t be a ghost. He’ll be able to move forward again in a straight line.

And I think Daniel showing him mercy in a playful way like Mr. Miyagi shocks him to his core. It’s an option he hadn’t thought of. He hadn’t thought he deserved mercy. He probably was looking for someone to punish him for not being there when the people he loved needed him, his uncle in the shrine, Miyagi sensei at his deathbed. And instead he’s allowed to live and no longer is a ghost. He’s been freed and his uncle isn’t the same as he was, and I like to think that they’re made the better for it. That they figure out how to grieve and grow and how to make things for the village and island better. Because they’re no longer in pain and full of hatred. And Chozen might get the chance to be his own person and not just a yes man, because he’s finally seen and no longer a ghost. TLDR: I view Chozen’s entire actions of the second movie propelled by grief stuck in the stage of anger and denial. That he was close to Miyagi sensei and blocked from being by his side at his death and it propels him to self destructive and projection.

#headcannons #buku buku tea #buku buku cha #the karate kid #I've got a whole other one I could go on about Terry and Chozen too 😂#long posts #originally with buku buku cha Chozen was going to get that self destructive behavior #that burst of absolute gut wrenching anger after miyagi sensei passes #but instead I realized because he'd been seen and because he had Johnny who understood even just a little that it wasn't as explosive

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tonkirc · 2 years

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tallmadgeandtea · 4 years

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Far Side of the World

Hi! So, this is one of my favorite scenes I’ve written for SS&SP, but like most of them I am not sure it will fit in the actual published fic, but I really enjoy it, and I hope you do too! Let me know if you like one shot kind of things, cause I could totally write more of them! This one takes place around March 1778, or about a month into Ben and Liz’s secret relationship. Thanks for reading!

SS&SP spoilers under the cut!

It was spring, and she was on top of the world.

It was spring, and the valley was alive, resurrected, slowly blooming and blossoming after months of winter. The snow was melting away, defeated by the sun’s return, its long awaited arrival. It brought rising temperatures, it brought a gentle breeze instead of a biting, howling wind.

The screams turned into birdsongs. The grass was wet with early morning dew, gone was the frost, the crack underneath their boots as they trudged up the hills, through the miniature mountains of snow.

The sun was high in the sky at all hours- it stayed for as long as she wanted it to be, it was there to greet her in the morning and when she left the camp, said goodnight to her soldiers, as they got ready for later evening patrols. She had more hours to ride, more hours to spend there. She didn’t have to be home before dark. The sun was reliable. It had to apologize for being gone for so long.

It was spring, and she was at the top of her game.

The soldiers respected her, they called her by her name, they bowed their heads and took their bread with a smile. Washington received her reports, the inventory. They sat at the top of his desks every morning- she knew he had Hamilton check the math, check the numbers, see if she stumbled, see if she made a mistake, wrote something down incorrectly, forgot to add or subtract.

But they were right- everything was right, falling into place. The puzzle was coming together, the problems were being solved. She didn’t have dreams, she didn’t have wishes. She had problems she wanted to see solved- the beginning stages and the final solutions, and the feeling when it was tried and true, when it was perfect.

It was spring, and she was had him.

He rode in front of her, high on his dapple gray horse, his helmet shining in the sunlight, his sword swinging at his side as he turned onto the familiar, beaten path. She only needed one escort- she could handle herself, she said. If anything, an army of Dragoons leading her home looked suspicious. She had nothing to hide.

Nothing to hide except him.

Except his heart sewn onto her sleeve, except the way he called her name when they were alone- Elizabeth, he whispered in her ear as the door closed, as they stood in his tent, and a look flashed over his face, softness and happiness, a joy she’d never seen him wear before. Elizabeth, he said as he walked over to her, moved the hair out of her face, stroked her cheek. Elizabeth, he sighed as he bowed his head, walked towards the door, as he started to leave, to go back to where he came from. To where he belonged.

Except the things he told her- his thoughts, his hopes, his memories. Memories of Setauket, a world away from Philadelphia, a sleepy seaside town surrounded by saltwater and swamp. He told her about his friends- he told her about the ring. But to him they weren’t spies, they were his family. Caleb and Anna and Abraham. He told her about his family, his father and brothers. “Issac would like you,” he said. “You’d leave him flustered.”

“How so?”

“You’re prettier than any of the girls in Setauket.”

He only talked about New Haven in passing, before he fell asleep- and he never mentioned names, only vague memories, pieces for another puzzle.

But it didn’t matter- anything showed her she mattered, showed her he wanted to tell her something, he wanted to bring her closer, he wanted to pull her in.

And she would let him.

She already did.

It was spring, and she had everything.

She had warm weather and sunshine, she had friends, a family, a purpose. She had him.

“Benjamin?”

He didn’t stop, looking over his shoulder, the plume whirling as he faced her, the white horse hair cascading down his back. He squinted underneath the visor, “Yes?”

“We aren’t far from home, are we?” She asked.

Of course we aren’t. You know the answer, Elizabeth. You know all of them. But he doesn’t.

“I do not think so,” he paused, glanced up at the trees, slightly leaned forward in his saddle to try and make out the rest of the road, “Why? Do my Dragoons take you a different route? Do you have to stop?”

She shook her head, “No. I was just wondering if we could pick up the pace.”

“Oh?”

“My mare is growing reckless.”

She could see his smirk from where she was, “Oh, is she?”

“She hasn’t ridden in a long time.” Elizabeth replied. “She’s used to carriages.”

“And what are you suggesting?” He asked.

She took a deep breath- hold onto the reins, and don’t look back. Only look ahead. And run.

“A race!”

The mare whinnied as Elizabeth kicked her side, and suddenly Benjamin was behind her, hidden behind a veil of dust. She caught a glimpse of disbelief, shock and surprise.

And then, Benjamin’s calm canter transformed into a gallop.

“Miss Walker!” He shouted.

“Oh, don’t call me that when we’re alone, Major!”

She reached the turn before him, heard him swear under his breath- she was getting further ahead, she had thrown him off his guard, off the course. Did she always have a way of doing that? Did he know it was vice versa?

“What do I get if I win?” His voice was distant, overpowered by the sound of hooves beating against the dirt, horses breathing and panting.

“A kiss!” She yelled- as if he wouldn’t get one regardless, as if she wouldn’t give him whatever he wanted.

That motivated him- she heard him grunt as he sped up, told the horse to go faster. Seeing Benjamin ride was rare- horses weren’t allowed in camp, he was always walking, either to headquarters, to the woods, to the dragoon’s tents. She loved seeing him ride- he looked at ease, confident, daring and dashing. He looked like a soldier, a spymaster. He looked important.

What did he see when he looked at her? Did he think of her as one of his spies? Another plan of his? Another thing to worry about?

Did he know he had her?

Just as she had him?

Don’t think about that, Elizabeth. Think about how much fun you’re having, how happy you feel, how fulfilled you are. Think about the wind in your hair, your skirts and feet flying.

She was soaring- she had been soaring this entire time, but it was disastrous, she was simply waiting to crash, she didn’t know where she would land. Did she now?

No, but she knew where she was going.

She was going home.

And he was following her.

Behind her, closer. And he was laughing, the sound traveling through the air like a melody, like the roar of the fifes and drums, like a chorus. It was sweeter than music, it was lighter than the bird’s cry and the river’s running.

“I thought you would be faster!” She called back to him, “Your regiment has light in its name, Benjamin!”

“I’ll have you know I’m the fastest dragoon, Elizabeth!”

“Then prove it!”

The clearing before the driveway was in the distance- she could almost smell the garden, the fields and the farm. Going home was always the worst part. Standing in the foyer, Mary waiting to take her cloak and wet shoes and socks as the soldiers disappeared down the road, turning into little specks as they dove into the darkness.

But now, there was light.

It was spring, and she had everything.

It was spring, and she won.

She came to a stop in the clearing, in the sight of Walker manor, in the sight of her home- could she call it that anymore? Had it lost that feeling? The warmth in her chest, an invisible blanket over her shoulders. Where had it gone?

What had she given it to?

Benjamin.

It was spring, and she had him.

He finally arrived, breathing as heavily as his horse. He shook his head and inhaled a sigh, but he was grinning, beaming, shimmering. “I lost,” he said, matter of fact.

“Yes,” she nodded, “you did. But, you may still get a prize. Come here.”

He dismounted, and he walked over- she could’ve sworn the world slowed whenever he walked into a room, whenever he came into her view. It slowed when he walked into the woods after a raid, it slowed when he walked into Washington’s office. It had slowed that night, the first time she saw him- in the mist of chaos and pain, disaster and destruction, he was slow. He was the center of it all.

Benjamin picked her up, and he kissed her.

It was spring, and she was in love.

Love, a trivial, remarkable feeling. She had heard of it- in the way her father talked about her mother, wistfully and painfully. She had seen it- in the way certain couples looked at each other at the balls, as they danced the night away, spent it in each other’s arms. She had thought about it- would she ever have it? Would she ever be able to put the puzzle together herself?

Was love a problem to solve?

She didn’t know.

But it was real and it was tangible, and somehow she had gotten her hands on it. Somehow she deserved it.

It was spring, and she had everything.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” she whispered.

Benjamin sighed, “I know, and I’m sorry.” His hand delicately ran through her hair, placed a kiss on her forehead. He held on tighter- she felt his grip through her coat.

She had everything.

Everything until he had to leave.

Until he had to go wherever the war called him.

Wars didn’t build homes.

War only destroyed them.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Major Tallmadge.”

But she wanted to stay like this, in his arms, head on his chest, for just a moment. Just until the sun sank deeper into the sky. Just until Mary called her name. Just until it was nighttime, and she was alone.

When she only had herself.

“I’ll be here first thing, Elizabeth.”

Benjamin kept his promises.

She knew he would give her anything she wanted.

If the war gave him anything, he gave it back to her.

#this was a fun one!#god I love them #the title is from a scottish song #anyway #look at how annoying they are #i want what they have tho #those last two lines make me SCREAM #The Summer Soldier and the Sunshine Patriot #SS&SP #Benjamin & Elizabeth #otp: first thing in the morning #turn: washington's spies fic #turn amc fic #benjamin tallmadge #amanda writes #SS&SP spoiler time cause i said so

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drowninginblox · 4 years

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Thrown into it(3)

Part 3- I don’t think I am

Hamilton- the musical- enforced in me many lessons. Many of which I took to heart. One of them being that every action comes with an equal, opposite reaction. I guess that's why once Nighteye was done evaluating my life, he ordered the police to escort me to the nearest government facility. Bastard must’ve seen all the shit I’ve done to his not so biological son- Mirio- and his friend. Lowkey don’t regret it though. Tumblr fanfics are the shit.

The ride there was awkward to say the least. Not because of the quiet, I did my best to stir up some conversation and light up the bleak situation. I mean yeah, there were only two officers and a pro hero in this van with me, not much to do anyways. I The pro was more interested in what was going on outside than me while the officers where stone cold. I was expecting that from Rock Lock but c'mon not all the side characters had to be dead inside like Tokoyami.

“Hey um.. You guys like Jazz?” I asked. I couldn't tell if the cops even glanced at me because of their visors but I kept going. “Back home a lot of people would laugh at that.. or just cringe now that I think about it.” I glance out the tinted windows. Apparently where I was being held was in the dense city. Which one I didn't know. Now we were somewhere into the country since there were more trees than people. “I don't think you guys are allowed to tell me where I'm going, but can I ask you if there is good food there?” I glance back to see one of the men smirk for a moment. At least where I'm going isn’t all deprived of humanity. “Hopefully they have KFC there.” I added while glancing back at them. No response.

My thoughts washed over me after that. First thinking about the little things like how the car was just warm enough, then to outside, but then all plummeted when I saw the sun. It's so bright, kind of like Mirio’s smile. Wait- Mirio- what would happen to him? Is he’s gonna lose his quirk still? No. No that can't happen! I refuse to let that happen! I mean Eri is cute but no way in hell is he gonna be a glorified babysitter, waiting in the wings until the plot calls him forward. I gotta do something! I can't just sit and watch his life be torn apart! “Hey, kid? You alright?” one of the officers asks from the front of the vehicle. I blink in surprise. Huh, why are my eyes watering? “You were crying. I just wanted to know if you were still with us.” I hesitate before feeling my cheek. Damn these handcuffs. They were right, it was damp and my cheeks felt a little hot. “Mfine, I just need to talk to Sir Nighteye.” From the corner of my eye Rock Lock glances at me. “Why?” he inquired at my request. My hands shook a little out of intimidation. Man this guy had one hell of a stare. I gulped before catching myself. I couldn’t just outright say what was gonna happen but at the same time i cant just let too many people get hurt! “L-look- it’s complicated. And even so, I don't think you’d believe me.” From his seat he scoffed out “Try me kid. I heard a lot and saw more.” I glanced ahead at the guys in the front seat. The one driving seemed to have his eyes glued to the route we were taking while the other was looking through the rear view mirror. A sigh escaped me. Fine lets see how much crazy this guy has seen. “You wont believe me but, this is all a manga- where I’m from that is.” The guy looking back at us cracked a smirk and shook his head slightly. From the corner of my eye, Rock Lock held his forehead in his right hand in an exasperated fashion. “Why do I get the crazy ones?” He mumbled under his breath. I don't even try to argue. My head slowly fell, my hair getting into my face while my vision grew cloudy. “I told you so. Noone will believe me.” While time passed tears fell. I still couldn’t grasp it. I didn't bother to scream or cry out for help since it would only hurt me in the long run. Thoughts of my family ran through my head. Smiles, tears, laughs, hugs, smells, and plenty more things I will never experience again hit me. Each time I would scrunch into myself more and more. “I’ll never see my family again..” I mumbled.

“What do you mean?” I hear the pro ask. “What is there to explain? I will never see my family again. They don't live in the 22nd century it they somehow existed. Was it the 22nd? There is so much to know about this universe. It kinda gets jumbled together after a while..” I looked down at the floor of the car for a bit when it suddenly stopped. “We’re here.” One of the guys stated, a moment later the door on my side opens. I look to see Nighteye and Mirio accompanied by many swattmen. “Come with us.” The older of the two ordered. I look back at Rock Lock before I turned back to the pair. Mirio held his hand out for me to take. As scared as I was for what was coming, I took it.

Automatically a warmth overcame me kind of like entering a cabin after trekking through a snowstorm. “Will you guys hurt me?” I asked while Mirio helped me down. “Not unless we’re forced to.” Night eye confessed. “But seeing as you don't know fully what's going on, I don't think that will be necessary.” I nod. Looking back on it i should’ve been offended but that wouldn’t have helped my situation. Through his response my gaze couldn't be removed from Mirio. The same could be said for him on me too. I can't explain why but I had the sudden urge to look him over to make sure he was okay. And once that was done I was glued to his eyes. They’re so simplistic why was I staring at them? Can't for the life of me tell you why he was staring at me though. This thick chick cant get the attention of no guy unless they wanted to judge me. “Excuse me?” A short, bald, man in a lab coat breaks the..moment? Is that the word? Whatever was going on between Mirio and I. “You must be one L/n Y/n if I'm not mistaken?” He asks with a smile. His bushy mustache raises a little. “Thats me..” He reminded me of the doctor in Izuku’s flashback. Was this the guy that was stirring up all that drama in the fandom a few months ago? Something to do with his name right? “Well if you’d follow me, we can perform a physical and psych evaluation on you before the pro’s ask you a few questions. If you’d follow me?” Glancing back at the crowd of people I nodded and followed, unaware of what will result from this.

#mirio togata #togata mirio #bnha mirio #mirio #mirio x reader #sir nighteye #bnha sir nighteye #bnha #mha #mha x reader #x reader

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ramblingrachell · 4 years

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Have You Read This? The Election of 2020

Like many of us, I watched Hamilton on July 4th, 2020 – our nation’s birthday. I met the day with mixed emotions as the spirit and character of our nation as of late did not seem appropriate to celebrate.

As I watched the story about many of the nation’s founding fathers and first leaders unfold, I was struck by the parts of their personal trials and tribulations that went beyond their contribution to the nation. Hamilton was the first politician to be involved in a sex scandal; Layfette – an immigrant, unafraid to step in and become America’s favorite fighting Frenchmen; Washington – a slave owner willing to admit “it probable that I may have committed many errors;” Jefferson – gained wealth profiting from the work of slaves, one of which he fathered six children with after making her his mistress. Burr – the untried murderer of Alexander Hamilton, whom he killed while still holding office as the third Vice President of the United States. In short, a hot mess of moral contradictions. I have been listening to the Hamilton soundtrack ever since my first viewing on July 4th, and realized a number of lines in various songs could be strung together to reflect my perception (key word: my) of the current political climate. Over the last week or so, I finally sat down to string all of those poignant lines together (with a few liberties for relevant context), a lyrical short story I have dubbed, The Election of 2020 (seen further down, further down). The beauty of democracy that is reborn during election seasons is our ability to get a fresh start, gain new perspectives, correct past wrongs, and continually better this land of the free for generations to come. I saw a quote recently that described voting as not so much like trying to find the perfect partner for marriage, but rather like using a bus for public transport. Voting is a map of bus routes that you must choose from in order to get from point A to point B. There may not be one specific bus that is going to your exact destination, but that doesn’t mean you stay at home and give up on travel entirely. Voting is not about waiting for “the one” candidate who is absolutely perfect. Instead, you choose to get on the bus that gets you closest to where you want to be. I know and love many republicans and democrats that have used the privilege of voting to get us all closer to where we want the nation to be. To me, where we are right now does not seem to fit under either traditional party umbrella – no, it’s much more like an umbrella that has been turned inside out and torn apart by a calculated hurricane of divisive and selfish endeavors. Perhaps more than ever before, this is the time to reassess our voting bus routes that will get us from point A to point B. Are we moving from indifference to tolerance? Hate to love? Despair to hope? Chaos to consistency? Negligence to protection? Moreover, before you get on your bus of choice, remember the route is designed to get the whole of our nation where we want it to be. Not just for me and not just for you. For all of US – as in, all of the United States. We will never all agree, I know this, but in spite of these disagreements, I am reminded of the hope that comes from the story of Hamilton. Even 244 years into this nation’s story, despite many dramatic peaks and valleys, the journey to our shared, happily ever after epilogue lives on. It lives on in me, in you, and in every vote cast to get us where we want to be. Regardless of how your vote is cast, the courage to reexamine your route and get on that bus… well, that would be enough.

The Election of 2020

“America, you great unfinished symphony A place where even orphan immigrants Can leave their fingerprints and rise up We’re running out of time Eyes up Time's up Wise up He's not the choice I would have gone with History will prove him wrong Winning was easy for him Governing's harder Welcome, folks, to a dysfunctional administration! He stands only for himself It's what he does I can't apologize because it's true Have it all, lose it all The President is gonna bring the nation to the brink He’s the villain in our history Frankly, it's a little disquieting that so many are blind to this reality He doesn’t have an ounce of regret He accumulates debt, he accumulates power Yet in our hour of need, he forgets Ardently abuses his post It's hard to listen to him with a straight face Watching the tension grow He cannot be left alone to his devices Indecisive, from crisis to crisis Stay alive 'til this horror show is past We're gonna fly a lot of flags half-mast Chaos and bloodshed already haunt us How many died because he was inexperienced and ruinous? We're too fragile to start another fight Where do we draw the line? Someone oughta remind him We're running a real nation Him and his words, obsessed with his own legacy His sentences border on senseless And he is paranoid in every paragraph How they perceive him Let future historians wonder How he tore so much apart And watched it all burn I wish I could say what was happening in his brain He's not very forthcoming on any particular stances Ask him a question: he glances off, he obfuscates, he dances I will not equivocate on my opinion I didn't say anything that wasn't true His father's a scoundrel, and so, it seems, is this dude He is uniquely situated by virtue of his position Though 'virtue' is not a word I’d apply to this situation He seeks financial gain, straying from his sacred mission And the evidence suggests he’s engaged in speculation Why does he assume he’s the smartest in the room? Soon that attitude will be his doom He knows nothing of loyalty Smells like new money, dresses like fake royalty Desperate to rise above his station Everything he does betrays the ideals of our nation See how he lies Look at his eyes Follow the scent of his enterprise If we don't stop him, we aid and abet it Watching him grabbin' at power and kissin' it Somebody has to stand up to his mouth What do we stall for? If we stand for nothing, what'll we fall for?

Be careful with that one He will do what it takes to survive No one knows who he is or what he does His pride will be the death of us all God, we hope he’s satisfied This man has poisoned our political pursuits Destroyed our reputation I can almost see the headline, his “career” is done Ya best go run back where ya come from! This dude is out! You ever see somebody ruin their own life? History obliterates In every picture it paints It paints him and all of his mistakes It's him against us, the world will never be the same He better get ready for the moment of adrenaline Try not to crack under the stress When he finally faces his opponent They’ve fought on like seventy-five different fronts He smacks others in the press and doesn’t print retractions We're breaking down like fractions But when all is said and all is done I have beliefs, he has none Gotta get us out of the mess he’s got us in There’s a reason no one trusts him No one knows what he believes I get no satisfaction witnessing his fits of passion The way he primps and preens and dresses like the pits of fashion Our poorest citizens, our farmers, live ration to ration As Wall Street robs 'em blind in search of chips to cash in He’s askin' for someone to bring him to task While we were all watching, he got Washington in his pocket But the sun comes up And the world still spins I hear wailing in the streets There is suffering too terrible to name This is not a moment, it's a movement Are we a nation of states? What's the state of our nation? The issue on the table: We are engaged in a battle for our nation's very soul I’m past patiently waitin'. Let’s passionately smash every expectation For the first time, I’m thinkin' past tomorrow. We're gonna rise up - time to take a shot This nation better rise up Raise a glass to freedom Something they can never take away No matter what he tells us Look around at how lucky we are to be alive right now But we'll never be truly free Until those in bondage have the same rights as you and me Seek out injustice in the world and correct it Life doesn't discriminate Between the sinners And the saints It takes and it takes and it takes And we keep living anyway We laugh and we cry And we break But can l be real for a second? For just a millisecond? We gotta make an all-out stand Get him out of power So he holds no office We are a powder keg about to explode We gotta stop 'em and rob 'em of his advantages Let's take a stand with the stamina God has granted us We pick and choose our battles and places to take a stand We will fight for this land Summon all the courage that’s required Be a part of the narrative The story they will write someday How we emerged victorious Leaving the battlefield waving Betsy Ross' flag higher No one has more resilience Let’s move under cover and move as one We have one shot to live another day Don’t throw away this shot We will fight up close, seize the moment and stay in it And so the American experiment begins again We bleed and fight for the next generation We'll make it right for them If we lay a strong enough foundation We'll pass it on to them, we'll give the world to them For a strong central democracy We may never all agree, but There's only one man and woman Who can give us a command so we can rise up Throwing verbal rocks at his mediocrities What do you stall for? What was it all for? We studied and we fought For the notion of a nation we now get to rebuild Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness We fought for these ideals; we shouldn't settle for less I don't pretend to know All the challenges we’re facing But this once, take a stand with pride This is not the time to stand to the side Stand with us in the land of the free To get the people that we need to lead We need the votes We need bold strokes When there’s skin in the game, stay in the game We don't get a win unless we play in the game We may get love for it We may get hate for it We get nothing if we wait for it I wanna build something that's gonna outlive me I dream of a brand new start I want real leaders that can save the day We won't be invisible We won't be denied If we get this right The nation can start to move on It outlives us when we’re gone We are the one thing in life we can control We are inimitable, true originals We can’t stand still Or lie in wait We don't wanna fight, but We won't apologize for doing what's right Together we can turn the tide If we manage to get this right They'll surrender by early light We have no control Who lives, who dies, who tells our story But I know that we can win I know that greatness lies within us But remember from here on in History has its eyes on me and History has its eyes on you”

(All Lyric Credits: Hamilton: An America Musical. Performances by Lin-Manuel Miranda, Daveed Diggs, Renée Elise Goldsberry, Jonathan Groff, Christopher Jackson, Jasmine Cephas Jones, Leslie Odom Jr., Okieriete Onaodowan, Anthony Ramos Phillipa Soo, and Original Cast Company. Atlantic Records, 2015.)

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ltcol-laurens · 4 years

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Here’s my storytime no one asked for:

I just got back from London and I was staying in Highgate which is North London and I couldn’t go on public transport because of the corona risk so I walked to all the JL places. I don’t know if any of you live in London but Highgate to the main part of London where John lived is about 5 miles. So it was fine because I had my phone with the map and I went to Chancery Lane first and it’s such a fancy road. I really appreciate how fancy JL was when I go there. And there’s like a pub/inn where all the Temple law people go so I guess JL probably went there. But on the other side of the road there’s a Kings College campus and I know it’s not the same Kings College but it made me think of Hamilton. Also I don’t know for sure but I think that is the road where Jemmy died so I always feel a mixture of excitement because that’s where JL lived but sadness because Jemmy died there most likely. Then I crossed the road to try to go to Middle Temple but it was closed sadly. I’ve been there before though so it was fine. I then imagined I was John Laurens going to see Martha Manning so I walked to St Mary Axe. I don’t know why because it was only about a mile but it felt like that took forever. But I passed St Paul’s Cathedral. And I passed somewhere called Grace Hall and I was like ‘Ahhh I see John Laurens wanted me to come here’ haha. Anyway, I got to St Mary Axe and my phone died and I was thinking maybe it’s because of the hetero shenanigans that went down on that road which my phone didn’t like or something. So I was very stressed because I needed my phone for directions. But also there’s a church on St Mary Axe which I found out yesterday is where JL & MML got married. So I went back to Chancery Lane because I was panicking about my phone being dead. I also was thinking about that time when John went to Kent to find a school for Jemmy and he went to St Mary Axe only to be told about Jemmy cracking his skull and then I just was thinking about how I was probably doing the same route as John after being told his brother was probably about to die which really broke my heart. But back to the story: so I went to Pret (coffee shop in England if you didn’t k. A lot of you are American I think) on Chancery Lane because I wanted to spend as much time where John was as possible because I love him. But they fricking kicked me out!! Apparently they close at 14:30 now but it felt like they kicked me out so I have like 40% charge by then but my phone dies quickly,thanks apple. And then I walked back and luckily I remembered how to go back. So I got back with blisters on my feet because I think I walked like 12 miles or something so I must really love John Laurens I think.

#John Laurens #London #St Mary Axe #Martha Manning #storytime with grace #no one asked for this

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sasorikigai · 4 years

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“Were you here this whole time?” (@hanzo)

hamilton musical : workshop songs … sentence starters || @adversitybloomed || accepting

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || How love turns him into a monster; someone he doesn’t even recognize. If he doesn’t love with all of his heart, he would never fall completely. He never would have committed to the atrocities of Scorpion’s ire and vengeance to completely and utterly become someone else, something else, everything he resented in his life. In his unlife and vicious death, all his dreams and aspirations became next to nothing, so he would simply wander and wonder. The scope of his wrath became highly proportional to the grief and deepest remorse he felt in his absent heartbeat’s incantations, such malignant deception distorted him to become malignant, in his loneliness and pain. Nothing assuaging the battlefield of Hellspawn spectre’s psyche and filling him with such dire want that would breach through and negate the eldritch magic that confined him without the magnanimous passion and willpower to blossom.

The world Scorpion had known was suffocated with darkness and despair, swelling in every corner and every crack. Yet, he always had seen more. Because when the world turned to darkness, he decided to create light. The wretched fate may have yanked hope out of the ground, as Hanzo Hasashi would scream for mercy as the pain grew to be too much. He refused to stop, even when the crumbled, decimated foundation of his being caved into darkness too deep, he raised hope like a battle flag. A beacon for those slaughtered and neglected. The darkness would shrink back to give its way back to his light. The deep amber of the pool shimmering the infinite desire for what one rarely gets; a void that one cannot fill, an utter yearning to produce in all ways, to battle as much as possible against time that both drags and guides him along, and the distractions that throw a veil over his soul.

Hanzo appears before the androgynous War General from the tenebrous shadows, yellow and charcoal clad, wearing the hopeful, magnanimity of the Sun amidst the settled, thickened tapestry of the night. The past’s debris may be ash and dust, becoming whispered echoes in the walls of his ribcage, but he would no longer crumble, even beneath the sensation of hollowness that couldn’t be filled. “I have a tendency to be in any given place as long as it is required me to do so,” his enigmatic, rather arcane answer was meant to breach the seemingly eons of silence, but he could still feel the flames set alight amidst his dear memories, while cries of chaos mingle like sentient thunder. So Hanzo discreetly wishes, may the rainclouds mist forever, as the streaks of his firestorm cut down endless streams of foes, raging from the Netherrealm’s depths within.

“Thank you for answering to such an abrupt correspondence. Needless to mention, the nature of our war between the Earthrealm and the Netherrealm is always perilous.” He bows respectively, before suppressing the repeated familiarity of all the heartache and desperation. Maybe this time, it could build him correctly as the overtaken memories work to build him correctly. “I will explain what we are up against en route the portal.” ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 ||

#✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion)#✗ seeking reconciliation with his own humanity (iii)#adversitybloomed

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schraubd · 5 years

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Israel's Arab Parties are Kicking the Door Down

The second Israeli election of 2019 is now in the books. Ballots are still being counted, but we can be almost entirely sure that when all is said and done, the Joint List -- a unified bloc of Israel's Arab parties (plus the Israeli communist party, which represents both Jews and Arabs) will be Israel's third largest party. Right now, the JL has won 13 seats in the Knesset (Blue & White is in the lead with 33, followed by Likud with 31; the Sephardic-religious party Shas is in fourth with 8). This is a superb showing for the Arab bloc, which overcame vicious incitement and suppression efforts, and they have not been hesitant to dunk on Netanyahu in celebration (when Netanyahu asked what ministerial positions Blue & White promised the JL, party leader Ayman Odeh replied "The Minister of Affairs of Sending You Home."). And I think this is actually even a bigger deal than many are letting on. Historically, Arab parties have not sat in government -- both because they've refused and because the Jewish parties have refused to sit with them. It is unlikely that this will change this time around -- though there remains a chance that JL could support a Blue & White coalition from outside the government. Yet we are starting to see some cracks. Labor has explicitly urged B&W leader Benny Gantz invite the Arab parties to the negotiating table to potentially join a coalition, and apparently Gantz and Odeh will be having a meeting. Whereas in April the Arab parties didn't recommend anyone for Prime Minister, now there are some indications they may back Gantz -- they've at least put out a list of commitments they want from Blue & White on issues ranging from restarting the Israeli/Palestinian peace process to fighting crime in Arab neighborhoods. But the most likely outcome of coalition negotiations is probably a "unity government" with both Blue & White and Likud joining a few smaller parties. In that universe, the Joint List -- as the largest party not in government -- would become leader of the opposition; a position which, ironically, would give them unprecedented access and influence within Israel's government. All of this -- the feting for coalitions, the potential kingmaker status, the position as presumptive leaders of the opposition -- is a result of one thing: Arabs turning out to vote. I've noted for awhile now that the "left" (or at least "not-right") bloc doesn't have a plausible route to power in Israel any more that doesn't go through the Arab community, and results like these will impress that fact on people's minds. Labor is starting to get it, Gantz is starting to get it, and the Arab parties themselves are certainly starting to get it. And this is how change happens. Forget waiting for the majority feel magnanimous. Kick the door down and make yourself a political force to be reckoned with. Go back and read Carmichael and Hamilton's Black Power -- you make yourself into an indispensable voting bloc whose support is necessary to prevailing in a given election, and you can extract a lot of goods even in the most hostile society. The Joint List is in a position of real power right now. They've earned it. Time to see how they use it. via The Debate Link https://ift.tt/2M3zfc8

#arabs #democracy #Israel

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cross-country-suggestions · 5 years

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i got tagged in a 21 questions game post ummm

Nicknames: Jules, Jelly

Sign: sagitarius

Height: 5′7″

Hogwarts House: gryffindor

The last thing I googled: google translate

Favorite musicians: Rascal Flatts, Dan & Shay, whoever makes the LDS Youth and EFY music, Parachute, Lin-Manuel Miranda, Kelsea Ballerini, David Archuleta, Scotty McCreery

Song stuck in my head: A Million Dreams from The Greatest Showman soundtrack

Following: i can’t find the place where it lets me see who i’m following idk

Followers: 943

Do you get asks: sometimes. please feel free to send them

Amount of sleep: i can’t remember the last time i got more than 7 hours

Lucky number: who actually has one of these

What you’re wearing: church outfit: button-up blouse and floral skirt

Dream job: ag teacher and cross country coach

Dream trip: across the country on Route 66 in a truck, sleeping in the bed of the truck with a friend on an air mattress and looking at the stars (when no Aesthetic™ cheap motels are available), wearing a crapton of bug repellent and keeping a loaded gun within arm’s reach

Instrument: been trying to learn piano but i suck and also have no keyboard to practice on

Languages: english and i took 2 years spanish in high school which basically means no, i do not know any language except english

Favorite songs: Only You from the 2015 LDS Mutual/Youth Theme Album, Five More Minutes by Scotty McCreery, This Is It by Scotty McCreery, Yours If You Want it by Rascal Flatts, All To Myself by Dan & Shay, Crush by David Archuleta, You Can by David Archuleta, Cracks of Heaven by David Archuleta, Wait For It from the Hamilton soundtrack, Prove Me from EFY, All Times All Things All Places from EFY

Random fact: I collect glass bottles! I have every cider or coke bottle I’ve drunk out of for the past four years, as well as blue and brown alcohol bottles I find out in the desert.

Aesthetic: sunlight through colored glass bottles, brightly colored running shoes and clothes, messy bookshelves covered in pictures and trinkets and books reread so many times that the hardbacks’ spines are cracked and soft, the sunrise over the mountains on a morning run, nighttime drives wit no music or soft music in summer with the windows open and warm air and the sound of a million crickets singing in the desert, the driving rain and fierce wind and stomach-quaking thunder and fury of a desert monsoon in August, soft golden warm late-afternoon light streaming through the slats in the blinds and resting on a wall, fresh flowers in a colored glass vase on a desk, the stiff blue corduroy of a brand new official FFA jacket, the softer material of a well-loved FFA jacket that has been worn and ironed and washed countless times for four years, the easy laughter and banter between cross country teammates after a run when everyone is sweaty and tired and destressed, the white cloth covering the sacrament table, the way a guy’s face lights up when he sees a dog

Tagging @supertinydom, @quidditchfails, @gahfortweektweak, and an honorary tag for any other fan of this blog bc i cant think of yall right now

#not cross country

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abbotsleighcc · 5 years

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Contrasting Fortunes For Leigh as 1st XI Defeated by Lions, 2nd XI Rout Patchway.

Away Day Blues for the 1st XI as Bristol Lions inflict a comprehensive defeat on the visitors, Rampant 2nd XI destroy visiting Patchway.

James Holdsworth took the First XI on a trip to Bristol Lions as temperatures in the West hit 30c for the first time this summer. Unfortunately the coin fell in the host's favour and unsurprisingly, they opted to make Leigh toil in the (postage stamp) field for 45-overs. James Tucker continued his excellent form this season, the Adam Sandler stunt-double picking up 3-60 from his 9-overs, the figures no reflection on another fine performance. Wickets also came for Holdsworth (1 for 59) and Andy Hamilton (1 for 72) but, the undoubted star of the bowling attack was Dan Sanders, the cheeky turner going for only 29 in his 9-over spell. An excellent catch and run-out from Jon Poole the highlights of the fielding, which kept the hosts below 300 and gave Leigh an outside chance of chasing. The reply got off to a steady enough start, Will Browne (38) and Sanders (17) provided a good opening partnership, Ben Caddick (25) and Holdsworth (13) the only contributions of note as Leigh's reply capitulated in the 26-over with the score on 125. Last-man, Rich Bull absent and unable to take to the field. A different story up on Abbots Leigh Road as Seb Davis and the Second XI hosted mid-table Patchway. The visitor's winning the toss and opting to bat first. Leigh set about the task in hand with gusto. Veteran seamer Rob Sealy producing another fine opening spell (2 for 18) and delighted to see a fielder take a catch (John Pugsley), dropped chances seemingly a regular thing now. New-ball partner Charlie Scharneck also picking up early wickets on his way to excellent figures of 3 for 29. The opening bowlers well supported by Steve Ellans (6 overs for 15), again keeping the squeeze on the visitors and enabling returning club legend Mo Rashid to pick-up 2 for 23 at the death as Patchway went to tea on a below-par 163 for 7. Special mention to Ben Smith who covered 248Km in the field on a sweltering hot day, without complaining - the ball always seemingly heading 20-yards to his left or right - cracking effort. The Leigh batting retort was a thing of beauty, aside from one mishap - a little communication breakdown ending with Andy Burrows being run-out (direct hit) for 10. Scharneck and Smith set about the visitor's bowling with aplomb - a lesson for all 2nd XI batsman, respect the good ball, dispatch the bad ball. Compiling a 2nd 150+ partnership of the season. Scharneck (79*) particularly brutal as the victory target came closer and Smith (55*) again demonstrating fine technique, with an array of powerful drives. The 2nd XI will enter the second half of the season, confident of closing the gap on the top sides, they may have left themselves much to do to catch them but, it's going to be serious fun along the way. .

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things-to-do-brantford-cana-blog · 5 years

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Transportation

You can go around Brantford, Canada via rail or bus. Street rail with horse-drawn carriages began in the city way back in the 1800s and this system was eventually converted to electric. The railway station is located just north of downtown Brantford and has daily passengers on the Quebec City-Windsor Corridor. Trains also stop at Union Station in Toronto but buses are becoming more popular nowadays. Brantford Transit serves the city with nine regular routes and there are also more bus companies that operate on different routes within the city like the Greyhound Canada and Go bus service as well as the All-Around Transportation which operates a Paris-Brantford shuttle bus.

Toddler Found Safe, 4 Arrested After Brief Amber Alert

Four people have been arrested after police say an estranged Brantford, Ont., father abducted his two-year-old daughter by breaking down the door of her mother's house. A 37-year-old man was taken into custody and the child handed over to Hamilton police around 4 a.m. following a brief Amber Alert and about an hour of negotiation, police say. Read more here.

A 37-year-old man was taken into custody after he abducted his two-year-old daughter. According to investigations, they received a 911 call about abduction and assault at a home on Bisset Avenue. A number of people knocked on the front door and when the mother answered, the estranged father broke in through a back door, threatened and assaulted his ex-wife, grabbed the child, and fled into a vehicle with three people inside. Police officers were able to track down the said car, arrested the passengers, and found the father and toddler in a home on Upper Ottawa. The child was safe, uninjured, and appeared to be unaware of the circumstances.

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Glenhyrst Art Gallery of Brant in Brantford Canada

Located in Glenhyrst Gardens, Brantford, Canada, Glenhyrst Art Gallery of Brant features contemporary fine art exhibitions, guided tours, classes, lectures, events, and an Art Rental Service. The gallery also offers exciting views both indoors and outdoors. This beautiful property was given to the city of Brantford by Mr Edmund Cockshutt with wishes that the place should be maintained for artistic and cultural pursuits. In 1986, the place was established as a public, nonprofit art gallery. Glenhyrst Art Gallery has a permanent collection of over 600 artworks and has showcased the works of several famous artists in the likes of Derek Boswell, Scott Waters, and Jeff Bierk to name a few.

Making a decision to repair or replace your roof is a big step and may be overwhelming for the homeowner. All too often, roof problems emerge after leaking or the occurrence of another serious damage. The Roofing Company recommends having a periodic inspection, usually, twice a year, to uncover cracked, warped, or missing shingles, loose seams, deteriorated flashings, excessive surface granules or downspouts, and other visible signs of roof problems. If you see any of these signs, just schedule an appointment with The Roofing Company, located in Brantford, Canada, and they will go to your house to fix the problem before it becomes too late.

Link to Map

Glenhyrst Art Gallery of Brant 20 Ava Rd, Brantford, ON N3T 5G9

Get on ON-24 N/ON-403 E from Ava Rd and Paris Rd 5 min (2.5 km)

Follow ON-403 E to Garden Ave. Take exit 41 from ON-403 E 4 min (7.2 km)

Continue on Garden Ave. Drive to Mitchell Ct 5 min (3.1 km)

The Roofing Company 4 Mitchell Ct, Brantford, ON N3S 7G8

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liberty1776 · 5 years

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How native American Indians fought in the Colonial Era. That armies commanded by Europeans like Braddock and Americans like St. Clair lost is obvious; what is often not admitted is that they lost because the Indian side was in some way militarily superior. The technical reasons for large Indian military groups being so difficult to defeat remain, then, somewhat unknown. How Indians fought in large-scale battles is, then, the central and neglected aspect that needs study. What follows will be, in particular, an attempt to suggest some of the political and military implications of the use of the half-moon battlefield formation. 2 Ashort comparison of Gen. Edward Braddock's and Col. Henry Bouquet's encounters with Indians will be used to illustrate the core of Indian battlefield tactics.

Aknowledgeable Indian-style fighter found that motion must be added tothe treeing technique. Dr.Alexander Hamilton of Annapolis critiques Braddock's tactics more correctly in1755, summarizing Indian tactics as "a kind of Running Fight, Skulking behind Trees and Bushes." 15 Even more accurately, Benjamin Van Cleve, in describing the general battlefield competency of the militiain the second Harmar, Ohio, engagement of1790, pictures both sides inconstant motion. This movement spread the combatants "for several miles &in some places the one party was over-powered by the numbers &the other party beaten at a short distance." In short, the crucial point was that "each party endeavored to outflank the other." 16 Acontrolled pattern of retreating when pressed hard was the second additional tactic that Indians used inbattle. Obviously, this form ofretreat is absolutely different from that fullflightearlier discussed. According to Norton, the retreat cycle consisted of a soldier firing, retreating past another, loading, watching the other go by, awaiting the approach of the enemy, and so on.Ifunable to continue the battle, they used the process until they found they were able to carry off the wounded. Above all else, Indian soldiers knew that they must avoid bearing the full brunt of a charging enemy unitbya calculated retreat. Examples of this difficult skill willbe given in the later discussions of Indian battles with Braddock and Bouquet. 17

Indians most certainly also knew how to charge as well as retreat. Indian commanders had an important option in their use of this third additional battlefield tactic. On occasion, Indians would move forward against a large force in a grand rush. On these occasions, it was as though the gun had never been introduced. With the psychology of terror at work,, this apparently rash approach was not only practical but relatively bloodless. So successful could this be that John Cleves Symmes generalized that frontiersmen must, like Indians, have a "tomahawk" so as to have the ability to charge in the woods also.18 In contrast to the rushing frontal assault, Indians proceeded methodically against adversaries who would not be spooked. Norton compared this second type of an Indian advance to "blackbirds." That is, there was arhythmical alternation of Indians reloading while moving slightly ahead of companions who had just shot to cover them. When retreating, the blackbird process was, as we've seen, reversed.

The practical difficulties of these sorts of maneuvers later led the military historian J. F. C. Fuller to argue that Indian-style (light infantry) fighting was necessarily of a higher order that the usual military discipline. Indeed, Fuller provocatively labeled Indian-style practice a "new discipline." 19 But when did Indians decide which charge to use? Whether it was a concern for not losing the lives of those under their command or simply solid military sense, tactics varied according to circumstances in this matter of an all-out charge or a controlled pace of advance. On the one hand, a small hunting party could be particularly difficult to destroy by simple frontal assault. Even a small militia or frontier unit might possess cohesiveness and would be able to coordinate their response to an Indian charge. On the other hand, if the group was a large militia unit, Indians might charge wildly. They did this successfully for a while against the Virginians in1774 at Point Pleasant. Larger Ohio Valley militia units often contained a number of crack marksmen, but as a group were ill-disciplined. A good Indian commander, by the last half of the eighteenth century, charged militia. As Norton mentioned, militia had a tendency to run since the shock technique worked best against units that lacked cohesion. From what kind of battlefield formation, then, were these Indian commanders working? Norton, whose work is a distillation of Iroquois war practices, described an encounter between some woodland Indians and their enemies: "The two flanks extended in advance in the form of a half moon/' 20 More generally, Adair pictured southeastern Indians posting "themselves in the most convenient place, in the form of half-moons." If suddenly alerted to the presence of the enemy, they "draw their wings toward the center." Or again, according to Norton, the ambush at Blue Licks, Ky.,also occurred along "the two flanks extended in advance in the form of a half moon/' 21 The half-moon formation is thus designed to facilitate the usual flanking and surrounding movements. Adair also generalized that this half-moon formation was particularly lethal when used in connection with an ambush, for it gave "victory at one broad-side." The annihilating effect of this formation can be seen in the account of Braddock's defeat where one report speaks of "two ambuscades" which "did incredible execution" since the advance guard came "between three fires."22

Observers have often critiqued the Indians for not chasing Braddock's forces more intensely. Since the Indians on this occasion had fought intelligently and energetically, this failure to detect and stop aretreat seems unprofessional. Ifitis assumed that the half-moon formation was designed to permit the surrounding of the other group, escape routes should have been cut off. However, the point of the halfmoon formation was not to encircle; at least, not to culminate always in an absolute circle of entrapment. Ina number of known engagements the Indians did not completely surround the troops. Rather, they held them in the half-moon formation. In A Treatise on the Mode and Manner of Indian War, James Smith presented a schematic drawing of how he thought an army on the move should react to an Indian attack. What is noteworthy about this schematic presentation is that Smith assumes that only "three squares of the army" will be attacked (see drawing #1). A recent redrawing of the 1763 Thomas Hutchin's map of the action at Bushy Run makes it very obvious that Bouquet was being held in a half-moon formation (see drawing #2). Invarious documents there seems to be noexplanation ever given for why, on these occasions, the half-moon formation wasn't drawn into a circle for completely enclosing the troops. The explanation is found inthe same demographical situation that led, as wehave seen, to a number of corollaries toreduce deaths. Indian armies followed a system inwhich running was preferable to dying,but dying was preferable tosurrendering. Thus, a formation allowingan avenue of retreat would cut down on desperate, casualty-creating stands taken by the defeated. Maneuverability necessary for the half-moon formation became a norm because of a facility acquired in communal hunts. The thousands of variables present on any battlefield always require a high order of group interaction. Indian groups possessed cohesiveness as a result of

A moving half-moon formation could act as a form of "ambush." John Norton, inhis account of traditional Iroquois lore, has arelevant passage that helps explain why the quick forming Indian envelopment was often viewed as an "ambush." Actually, this speedy enveloping motion was preferred over the carefully laid-out passive ambush which needed the enemy to walk conveniently into its field. Rather, the Indian formation operated as a self-adjustive and active form of encirclement: that was evidently used by many eastern Indians on certain important communal occasions and by large war parties for provisioning. According to Norton, the hunting line could extend for several miles with spaces of 100 to200 paces between each man and with two flanks generally projecting a little in advance. This technique differed from the more commonly reported ambushing technique in which a line of people (often women and children) pushed animals toward a narrow ravine or pound where the helpless animals could be slaughtered with ease by waiting hunters. Applied to the battlefield, the hunters' partly enveloped all the game, with the exact place of envelopment dependent on the changing circumstances. James Adair's 1775 anecdote from the Southeast shows this hunting technique in a petite war situation. In his story, the men of a village organize a number of neighboring villages to form the half-moon, so that they can locate in the woods the two very elusive Mohawk enemies who had been terrorizing their village.23 James Smith, who was a captive of the Algonquians, also assumed this Indian skill. His diagram in his Treatise shows Indians attacking in the communal hunt's half-moon or horse shoe formation.24

A British defeat outside present day Pittsburgh is one important battle that illustrates several of the points just made about Indian tactics. On July 9,1754, English military forces under General Edward Braddock, Commander of the British army in America, lost a battle six miles from Fort Duquesne in which 900 of his 1,400 men were killed or wounded. A recent authoritative account illustrates the usual historical puzzle concerning this battle.26 But my main reason forfocusing on Braddock's forces is that I feel, as many have during the past two centuries, that this was a battle lost, rather than won. How could the invaders have thrown away the great advantages they held in manpower and weaponry? This is the basic question I hope to answer. Other recent reviews of the battle also emphasize this question that has puzzled colonial contemporaries and military historians through the years: why did the English lose? These recent revisionists have systematically intensified the mystery by eliminating certain plausible traditional answers. The officers, recent writers argue, had personal European experience in irregular, guerilla-style warfare. Many British soldiers of the rank-and-file, moreover, were also acquainted with irregular style war. These soldiers, in any case, rose at the start above battlefield fear that day on the Monongahela. Thirdly ,there is a general agreement that the American colonials who accompanied Braddock performed creditably that day. If Braddock's officers understood their job, if their men were courageous, if their colonial allies were heroic and knowledgeable, then the question must be: how did the other side do it?27 The battle must not be viewed simply through the relevant English or French accounts. The former are full of excuses; the latter full of self praise. The battle must be looked at as a fight between English regulars and Indians and their allies. The battle was not planned in almost any precise sense. It just occurred when the enemies suddenly met. For that reason, the battlefield reaction of numerous lower-ranking soldiers to this rather unexpected meeting place was absolutely crucial. Tactically, the combatants had no choice but to react in traditional ways.

James Smith's Narrative briefly records his perception of what was happening in Fort Duquesne as the French and Indians awaited Braddock. He was the prisoner Of Indians and his account leaves very little room for the French. Iti s, therefore, a faithful Indian viewpoint: Some time after I was there, I was visited by the Delaware Indian already mentioned, who was at the taking of me and could speak some English.... I asked him what news from Braddock's army? He said the Indian spied them every day, and he showed me by making marks on the ground with a stick, that Braddock's army was advancing in very close order and that the Indians would surround them, take trees, and (and as he expressed it) "shoot um down al lone pigeon." I observed some of the old country soldiers speak Dutch, as I spoke Dutch I went to one of them, and asked him, what was the news? He told me that a runner had just arrived, who said that Braddock would certainly be defeated; that the Indians and French had surrounded him, and were concealed behind trees and in gullies.... 28 In some sense, every historian would agree that this Braddock debacle was an Indian victory. For one thing, there were almost twice as many Indians as French and Canadians combined. Braddock, secondly, had been warned by the Duke of Cumberland that his troops must "be particularly careful that they be not thrown into a panic by the Indians." If a key part of the battle was the fear shown by British troops in the presence of yelling Indians and Indian-style fighting, then it's obvious that Indians were important. Perhaps for that reason, are cent work labeled the chapter on the actual battlefield fight as "The Indiens Was Upon Us!" On the other hand, this same historian concluded his study: As we shall see, much of the controversy surrounding Braddock's Defeat revolves around the behavior of the troops, particularly the British regulars. By and large, our eyewitnesses claim that the enemy carried the day because the men panicked and refused to follow orders. In the end, we are faced with a choice of connotations. Were the men to "blame" for Braddock's Defeat, in the sense that we ,like Wolfe, believe that they should have performed more bravely than they did? Or were they merely "responsible"? Either way, the weight of evidence places the onus on them, rather than on Braddock or other officers. 29

While necessary as battlefield participants, Indians are tactically quite unimportant for either the cowardly soldiers or the incompetent officers' explanations. Since there were so few Indians fighting on the English side, this disinterest in the role of Indians may not be unexpected. More surprisingly, this ignoring of any possibility o fIndian leadership and this slighting of the Indian warrior as relatively unimportant also holds true for the French accounts. The central account of Jean Daniel Dumas insists: And in the first moments of combat, one hundred militiamen — one-half of our French forces — shamefully turned tail, shouting "Every man for himself!".... This retreat encouraged the enemy to resound with cries of "Long Live the King!" and they advanced quickly toward us. Their artillery, having been prepared during this time, commenced firing. This terrified the Indians, who fled. On the enemy's third discharge of musketry, M.de Beaujeu was killed....It was then, Monseigneur, that by word and gesture I sought to rally the few soldiers who remained.... and the Indians, seeing that my attack had caused the enemy to stop shouting, returned tome. Now I sent... to tell the officers in charge of the Indians to seize the enemy's flanks. 30 Dumas, in short, claimed that he kept the Indians from fleeing and that he directed their attack in the flanking of the English. If the account were literally and exactly correct, then the plan and key moment of bravery in the action has to go to that French officer. But this report, we are told, is "extremely self-interested." 31 After interviewing Canadians, the veteran woodland officer Pierre Pouchot gave a rather different interpretation: After the death of M.de Beaujeu, who was killed on the first fire, M.Dumas took command of the French, or rather, they (the various French officers) continued each one to do his best in the place they were in.

Pouchot, however, gives the same account of Indian behavior as Dumas: they start to flee, see French steadfastness, and so return to the battlefield. Both French accounts infer that the tactical maneuver that led to victory was the decision of French officers. Indian leadership is not a significant part of any first-hand French accounts of the victory. Nevertheless, an Indian scenario must be considered. When suddenly confronted with the enemy, Indians began to move from tree to tree in the flanking movements of the very traditional horseshoe tactic. Harry Gordon, an engineer at the very front of Braddock's forces, gives a first-hand account which shows Indians immediately and astutely doing their duty: As soon as the enemy’s Indians perceiv'd Grenadiers, they Divided themselves &Ran along our right and left flanks. The Advanc'd party Coll: Gage order'd to form, which Most of them Did with the front Rank upon the Ground and Begun firing,which they continued for several Minutes, Altho' the Indians very soon Dispersed Before their front & fellup on the flank partys, which only consisted of an officer &20 men, who were very soon Cut off. The Indians Making their Appearance upon the Rising Ground, on our Right, where they confusedly form'd again & a Good many of their Officers were kill'd and wounded By the Indians, who had got possession of the Rising Ground on the Right. There was an Alarm at this time that the Enemy were attacking the Baggage in the Rear, which Occasioned a second Retreat... 33 Gordon's analysis is corroborated in the particularly perceptive observations of one of the two ordinary soldiers who have left accounts of the battle. According to Chomely's Batman: Moreover, for those brought up on English accounts of Indian groups, a further In short, this1755 Monongahela encounter is instructive because the Indians were just as surprised as Braddock's forces at the exact meeting place. Nevertheless, almost as an instinct, Indians soon enveloped a great portion of Braddock's forces. The "American" (and Canadian) explanation of Braddock's defeat centers on a critique of the general for not adapting to the American woods environment and its Indian-style fighting. In particular, the general is savaged by his Colonial American critics for failing to allow his troops to hide behind trees. Secondly, many traditional military experts have decided over the years that the Indians should have been beaten at the Monongahela because a simple bayonet charge would necessarily have forced the undisciplined Indians to flee.35 Both analyses are as flawed as the assumptions on which they build. The valor and expertise of the Indians at Braddock's defeat can only begin to be appreciated if the judgment of the historian Robert L. Yaple is accepted: "...the charge of cowardice levelled at the British soldiery... who stood for two and half hours against the restless musketry of an unseen enemy — must evaporate in the light of reason alone." 36 Whether the British officers in command should alternately be judged peculiarly incompetent is, I would argue, doubly doubtful. Why couldn't Braddock have won if he had simply allowed his troops to fight from behind trees? This would certainly have cut down on the ease with which Indian and Canadian sharpshooters could kill Redcoats. Nevertheless, the overall results could have been the same. Only if Braddock had devised an unusual plan was there a chance that the Indians and their allies could have been beaten. Pouchot's informants pointed out an instructive distinction in standard Ohio Valley Indian military tactics. The French, according to Pouchot's account, "jumped behind trees, while the Indians passed to the right and left of the hill(where the two sides first met)."37That is, to win the woodland battle, the successful woodland army must begin to make a flanking movement by going swiftly from tree to tree, as Indians did against Braddock. His troop's first option of hiding behind trees would not work for any length of time. Simply protecting oneself behind a tree is not enough. That static move invites disaster, or at best a stand off. Sharp-shooting Virginians, as at the Battle of Point Pleasant in1774, could stay in place and still force the Indians to back off. In contrast, Braddock's immobile and inaccurate fire power was no match for Indian and Canadian accuracy. Speed and adaptability were, it must be added, even more essential if the half-moon formation was to be held against the bayonet charges of troops, the second option Braddock possessed at the Monongahela. As Gordon's description implies, the half-moon enveloping movement requires principles of advance and retreat by disciplined soldiers under good command. Historians have lost sight of Indian attention to these requirements because of another Pennsylvania Indian-British Redcoat engagement. Col. Henry Bouquet in1763 badly defeated the Indians in the Battle of Bushy Run when his troops, on the second day of battle, decisively charged with bayonents. After his defeat, and immediately before his death, Braddock is supposed to have prophesied: "We shall better know how to deal with them another time."38 Several years after Braddock's death, General Forbes revealed his interest in this point when he wrote to his subordinate officer, Henry Bouquet: "And I must confess in this country, wee must comply and learn the Art of War, from Enemy Indians or anything else who have seen the Country and War carried on init."39 The 1763 rout of the Indians at Bushy Run surely appears as proof that the British Officer Corps had learned "how to deal" with woodland Indian battlefield technique! The historian of the British army glorified Bushy Run: "...the history of the Army can show few finer performances on its own scale than this victory of a handful of English, Highlanders, and Germans under the leadership of a Swiss colonel." 40 Bouquet showed here how a truly desperate situation can be turned around by an innovative plan. A general awareness of this victory unfortunately has led to the misleading generalization that Indians never could handle a desperate charge of professionals trained in the European style. So, did the battlefield turn-about result primarily from the use of a bayonet charge by disciplined troops? For readers not familiar with the Bushy Run battle, it must be emphasized that on the second day of the battle, Bouquet found himself waterless, surrounded and badly mauled. Bouquet then pretended retreat and lured the Indians into a decisive trap. Bouquet understood how close he was to disaster at Bushy Run. In the same month as the victory, he wrote two candid letters to fellow officers.41Inneither letter does he gloat over the battlefield trick that won the day. To Maj. Gladwin, he sketched his position before the rout of the Indians as "we were excessively distressed by the total want of water, we marched immediately to the nearest Spring without inquiring into the loss of the enemy...." At the end of the engagement: "Our loss is very considerable." As for the Indians, they "must have suffered greatly by their repeated and bold attacks in which they were constantly repulsed." There is no hint that Indian losses came primarily as a result of any enclosing movement of bayonet-charging Highlanders. To Lt. James McDonald, he mourns for "such of our Officers and Men who have had the Misfortune to fall in their hands." Bouquet says of the Indians that they "fought with the greatest bravery and resolution for two days." To overcome them, the Swiss commander emphasized that "the Highlanders are the bravest men I ever saw, and their behavior in that obstinate affair does them the highest honor." In the next paragraph, Bouquet rather slides into a judgment that may wel lhave been his overriding one: he calls the victory "this Luky blow." This sigh of relief resulted mostly, I think, from the success finally achieved after numerous and fruitless attempts to chase the Indians out of their horse-shoe battle formation. Bouquet surely had been shaken at the end of the first day of the battle. He realized that after energetic action by his advance guard had seemingly chased the Indians off the surrounding heights — the manuever that didn't happen at the Monongahela — that his position remained perilous: The moment the pursuit ended, they returned with renewed vigor to the attack. Several other parties, who had been in ambush in some high grounds which lay along the flanks of the army, now started up at once, and falling witha resolution equal to that of their companions galled our troops with obstinate fire. It was necessary to make a general charge with the whole line to dislodge them from these heights. This charge succeeded; but still the success produced no decisive advantage; for as soon as the savages were driven from one post, they still appeared on another, till by constant reinforcements they were at length able to surround the whole detachment, and attack the convoy which had been left in the rear.42

This inability to corner the Indian is important because, traditionally, it has been popular to contrast the successful action of Col.Bouquet with the disaster of Gen. Braddock. The comparison is relevant; the British leadership is quite different. Assumptions usually made about the Indian response are unrealistic, though. The lesson of the first day at Bushy Run is that well-led Indians neither allowed themselves to be trapped in to a bloody engagement nor allowed the enemy to slide out of the encircling half-moon formation. Action that first day shows the core of Ohio Valley 18th century Indian battlefield tactical expertise in large-scale wars: the flanking movements accompanying the half-moon attack formation and the maintenance of that formation through an ability to charge and retreat according to battlefield circumstances. In addition, since soldiers were not noted for accuracy at long range, Indians followed Norton's principle already quoted. Something very unusual had to happen before a traditionally led army would be able to break that pattern. An important diagram in William Smith's work accompanies a theoretical discussion usually ascribed to Bouquet for trapping Indians 43. Even if the diagram correctly pictures what happened at Bushy Run, itreveals no real idea of why the Indians were trapped. That is, this key theoretical diagram fails to suggest, much less underscore, the fact that the two enveloping movements that are called for in the diagram will be useless athletic exercises without an additional stratagem for luring the Indians into the enveloping trap. The stratagem at Bushy Run was only possible on the premise that Indians believed that the besieged soldiers were, in fact, on the verge of fleeing for their lives. In any case, the greatness of Bouquet's military turn-about on Day 2 can only be appreciated if one realizes his troops did not just sally out of camp and irresistibly drive pell-mell "undisciplined" Indians before them. Thus, Bouquet's experience makes the following judgment quite plain. Braddock's forces would have found themselves in dire straits even if their advance guard had taken that hill on the right that features so prominently in the accounts of the battle. In the words of William Smith's account of Bouquet's difficulties on the first day at the battle of Bushy Run, "...the most lively efforts made no impression upon an enemy, who always gave way when pressed; but who, the moment the pursuit was over, returned with as much alacrity as ever to the attack." Thus, Braddock's forces, like Bouquet's, would have found themselves continually "surrounded by a circle of fire, which like an artificial horizon follows him every where." 44 So the conclusion for Braddock at the Monongahela was that his troops were at a great disadvantage that day, even if the officers and men from the beginning had begun to imitate Bouquet's men that first day at Bushy Run. Whether Braddock had tried the Americanists' suggestion of allowing his troops to hide behind trees or the professional suggestion of a simple bayonet charge, Bouquet's first-day experience indicated that Braddock would still have found his condition parlous. Since there was no second day of battle at the Monongahela,then there was never a chance for Braddock to try to engineer something similar to Bouquet's "Lucky blow." "So What?" is the provocative title of the chapter in which Paul Kopperman tries to show that his study of Braddock's defeat is more than antiquarianism and trivia. Likewise, it's a fair question: why notice how Indians behaved in such large-scale battles? This military question offers, I would briefly suggest, fundamental insights into both Indian and American history. Northeast woodland Indian society cannot be understood if the ideal of the soldier — "warrior," if one prefers — is ignored. Without appreciation for these "national" wars, the social fabric of that society will be downgraded. Here, as always, war shows a society's highest quality of practical organization. Before disintegration brought on by defeat, Indian men served their families, close kin, and participated in a larger political setting by engaging in wars, both petite and national. Thus, war had to follow rules that would keep deaths within acceptable social limits. Indians almost necessarily had to collapse in time before armies of more populous nations. These nations were ready to lose a large proportion of their troops to win. It is the glory of the Indian military apparatus that it succeeded so long in keeping that ultimate defeat from happening. Secondly, eighteenth century America was partially shaped by the Indian wars. "Petite" Indian war, in particular, helped form that spirit of violence that was integral to the personal spirit of the frontier. While this is well known, the influence of "national" Indian war is less known and more important. This kind of war forced larger social changes. Braddock's defeat, for example, initiated American doubts about British invincibility. St. Clair's defeat in the Ohio woods forced American politicians to face the bleak prospect of a West lost. George Washington's cabinet unanimously argued that America should not send another army into the Ohio Valley. Washington, however, exercised the presidential prerogative and overruled the cabinet. 45 The ensuing defeat of the Indians at Fallen Timbers by an army under Gen. "Mad" Anthony Wayne opened up the Old Northwest, bequeathed a mythology of easy success for "disciplined" army forces, and seemed to verify that Indian military efforts were amateurish. Nevertheless, only an awareness of Indian military sophistication can explain why it took so long for a populous and militant people to humiliate the Indians of the Ohio Valley.

#Leroy V. Eide #Battle of Bushy Run #Woodland Indians #Military history

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