"Alright class! With that ends our discussion of the Crusades! I hope to see tomorrow. Don't forget to complete your proofs for Monday. Whoever fails to accomplish even that will lose their playtime privileges. Yes, I specifically am referring to you, William."

As the schoolboys groaned and started to pack their bags to leave the brick schoolhouse, Thomas felt the ghost of a smile form on his face. Although the attitudes  of the young ones differed greatly from his when he was their age,  the satisfaction of knowing that he was passing on valuable knowledge to the younger generations was a welcome and fulfilling feeling. The  18 year old had Englishman had started his teaching career after a couple years at Cambridge , knowing what he was getting into, including the rigors of managing unruly students and receiving criticism from adults for his teaching style, but nothing could deter him from proceeding with and enjoying his career. Except for the fact that his beloved England was at war with France in a different continent. 

My father, Uncle Bart, and Abraham are serving in the King's military in the Americas and I am perched here in my comfortable schoolhouse, far from the action. General Braddock and that young militia commander not much older than I, George Washington, are out there risking their lives for the King and Empire, gaining glory in their battle against the French and their Indian savage allies since the Battle of Jumonville so why shouldn't I bear a musket as well and prove my worth? Summer time is approaching so school won't be in session until the autumn months. Maybe I can volunteer my services to the Crown for a few months at most and hope the war will turn in our favor by the time I return to my students. 

As the last boy, his favorite pupil Daniel, exited the oak door, painted red, Thomas started to weigh his options.  While he enjoyed distributing knowledge to boys like Daniel who chose to attend hours of tedious instruction when he could have been working the fields or working apprenticeships in bookbinding or baking,  the call of duty was pulling at him like the strings of a puppeteer.

To answer the call to arms or not, that remains to be seen. I must make haste and select carefully lest the window passes and I live the rest of my life in regret. Think, Thomas, think. Do the young children of England a service or England itself. You don't have much time so choose wisely.

As he turned toward his slate board to clear it, he heard the door open and let in the bright sunlight once more. Assuming that a student had come back to retrieve belongings he had left behind or needed to have a word with him in private, the young schoolmaster raised his head to speak. 

"I'll be a moment-" His eyes grew wide as he recognized his visitor. "Ah, Miss Abigail van Horn, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

The red-haired lass smiled as she entered the room. "A girl can't pay her friend a visit? I had been under the assumption that I had missed you."

The young schoolteacher leaned against the brick wall, his elbow resting beside the writing board. "Ah,  there is no rule against acquaintances paying each other visits, at least none that I am aware of. " He chuckled before continuing. "  Fortunately for you, I had business to take care of which binds me to this site.  Would you care for a pint of beverage to refresh yourself? It sure is a warm day." He rummaged through a cabinet. "Hmmmm, let's see. I have some wine and brandy yet I also can make tea and chocolate or some cider if you prefer."

Abigail waved her hand hand. " I appreciate the gracious offer, but I will forego the drinks for the time being."

"As you please. " Thomas nodded. "Is there anything you would like to discuss now that I am free of my current commitments?"

The young woman perched herself on the edge of a student's desk.  "Actually, there is something I wanted chat about.  I am glad to have caught you before you shipped yourself to the nearby barracks of the 49th Norbugh Battalion."

Thomas raised a brow.  "What makes you think I am enlisting rather than educating young minds?" 

"Because I know how you feel about being of service to the Crown. Since I met you a couple summers ago,  we chatted about our families and how you wanted to step out of your father's shadow and make him proud. What better way to do it than enlist in His Majesty's martial forces? Unless I was mistaken of your sense of duty, you'd be at the barracks by evenfall preparing to defend Britain's colonies from the greedy French rather than sitting idle in an abandoned classroom."

It appears that I no longer have an internal struggle about my course of action for the war effort much longer thanks to my female friend's unexpected visit.

"Ah, it seem you know me quite well. " Thomas smiled at her. "I was about to head there myself before the afternoon fades. I only need to write my farewell letters to my loved ones."

The redheaded girl threw her head back and laughed.  "No need of that. I can be your oral messenger if you prefer."

"Fair enough. Anything else you'd like to bring to my attention before I head to the barracks?"

Abby tossed her auburn curls back as she blinked her green eyes. " Actually, I did. Before you head out, I want to give you something to remember your female best friend by. "

Thomas raised a brow as Abigail took out a worn leather book out of her bag and hand it to him.  Brows pressed together, the young schoolmaster brought the book to his face as his eyes perused the title.

"Daniel Dafoe's Robinson Crusoe? Blimey! This one belongs to my everlasting favorites list.  How considerate of you, my dear friend."

Abigail waved a hand. "Don't mention it,  I'd do anything for a friend. You can thank me by hurrying your hide over to the barracks and sign yourself up for recruitment. You wouldn't want your father, uncle, and cousin to claim all the glory now, would you?"

The ambitious young schoolteacher just chuckled and shook his head.  "Nope, we wouldn't want that. Now it's time to get a move on.  School's out for the summer months."

---

"Left face! Right face! About face!"

At the barracks of the  Norburgh regiment of the His Majesty's army, Thomas took part in the exercises along with his new unit in front of the stone barracks on a yellow-green plain. As the lieutenant colonel drilled the recruits,  the realization that he was wearing the scarlet overcoat, brown breeches, and tricorn hat of the British military, something he had dreamed of for a while,  made the grueling military conditioning bearable. The fact that he was also holding Brown Bess, a flintlock musket with a detachable bayonet, was surreal. He could only hope he would get to use it in action against the French and their savage allies.  However, the main source of why he had decided to enlist in this unit bound for the British colony of New York was his lady friend Abby. 

I am glad I let Abby cajole me into enlisting.  Had it not been for her, I'd still be indecisive about serving the Crown. 

Once the day's drills were done, the enlistees were subjected to a speech by the their base commander. Taking a seat on the sandy gravel beside a burly lad of 21 named Winston and a fellow about a year older than him who he knew as Sam, he held up his rifle as the Lt. Colonel addressed the boys. 

"You are all here of your own volition rather than impressment to serve your kingdom in its hour of dire need. That in itself is admirable. A trait that not everyone possesses and one that will be rewarded ways down the road.   Before the day is halfway done, you will be on a ship to the colonies so I advise you prepare. Pack your gear, write those letters home, and get to know your messmates as these will be your closest friends and family you will have for your tenure in his Majesty's Army.  It isn't guaranteed that all of you, if any, will make it back and as painful as it is, such is war. Make your peace and we will meet back here for the walk to East Angles harbor for the ship that will ferry you to aid General Campbell's weary forces in turning the tide against La Salle's frog-eaters. Dismissed!"

After the hook-nosed  officer waved the troops off, Thomas gathered his equipment and marched alongside the rest of the recruits back into the dirt-colored tweed barracks.  Seated on his cot, he set to work on packing his belongings and chatting with his brothers-in-arms. 

"What made you want to join up with the regulars?" The young schoolmaster asked as he took out a parchment and grappled around his sack for a quill. "Pray, if one of you could spare me a quill, I'd be content for the time being."

As Sam handed him a quill,  he tilted his head to the side when he answered Thomas's question. "Well,  brewing ale and selling it to the townsfolk wasn't fulfilling enough for me so I sought something that would give me purpose and a direction." He rubbed the edge of his nose as he spoke. "Smuggling contraband items was exhilarating for a time, but the constant fear of having the local militia at your throat can become unbearable so here I am. "

"Isn't joining up with the regulars on their way to a war zone just as, if not more, nail-biting?" Winston asked.

The dark-haired lad raised his hands. "Ah,  you may be on to something, but at the very least, I am not on the wrong side of the law.  Besides, we will receive stipends, food, and lodgings for being the Crown's personal assassins."

"Don't forget glory," Thomas added as he rolled out his parchment and dipped his quill in ink.  "Furthermore, I wouldn't call us assassins. Rather, we are the servants of the King  or the guardians of his colonies. We are defending our colonists from the enemies of Great Britain. Besides,  the Frenchies were the ones who raided our territories first. We are teaching them that actions have consequences.  When one messes with the bull, they receive the horns."

"Moreover, I would guard my tongue if I were you." Winston narrowed his hazel eyes at Sam. "Calling His Majesty's forces assassins is tantamount to treason.  You wouldn't want to receive the noose, I take it?"

Sam's eyes resembled those of a frozen buck's. "Codswallop! Of course not! I didn't mean it in that regard."

"Worry not, my brother-in-arms." Thomas rose, setting down his quill and parchment. "Winston only had your best interest in mind when he warned you of the  potential consequences of loose lips. Despite that, I honestly doubt you'd hang from the gallows from one mere comment. Isn't that correct,  Winston?"

"Oh....I...um...that's right," the burly honey-haired enlistee mumbled as he hastily prepared to put away his rations and essentials into his sack. "I was just under the impression that we could have a tipster for the officers embedded among our ranks and report any of our misgivings as treason. I was trying to save our hides. "

"Your premonitions are misguided, but we shouldn't be thinking about what amounts to treason," Thomas said as he began doodling away with his parchment. "After all, we will be shipping off to fight for our beloved kingdom pretty soon. It is an honor that not all British citizens can claim. Anyhow, what made you want to take up arms against the French, Winston?"

"Ah yes!" Thomas's fellow enlistee cleared his throat. "Pretty much the same reason as you all have, wanting to kill some horsesniffers and defend His Majesty's colonies. After all, they are our kin from across the ocean.  It sure beats working at the docks, though the coins were essential in helping me and my Betsy in raising our son."

"Wouldn't you be getting a fair stipend by enrolling?" Sam asked. "That's not considering a full belly and endless ale."

"I would also get a place to sleep and a roof over my head, but what really enticed me to join up is the sense of duty to my kingdom." Winston glanced toward Thomas, who was vigorously writing away. "How about you, Tommy boy? What's your story? Who are you writing to so strenuously?"

 Thomas halted his letter and glanced up at his messmate. "Why, I am writing back to my mother and my friends to let them know that I will be setting sail for the New World with my two wonderful comrades-in-arms so my absence will not be the cause of a disturbance. I am joining up mostly for the same reason everyone else in these barracks is.  That fact notwithstanding, I intend to link up with my cousin, uncle, and father once we make landfall. They will come to realize that I am more than just a bookish anorak.  I can answer the call of duty as a soldier for the Crown. I have it in me to- Did I lose you both?"

Winston and Sam blinked as if waking up from a trance before the former conjured up a rebuttal. 

"Oh... not at all. I was just thinking that we should get a move on. The bulk of the other recruits have cleared out the barracks. We don't want to keep them waiting."

Sam nodded. "He's right. We can continue our discussion on the march to the galleon.  We don't want to be seen as lollygaggers right as we embark on our first assignment."

"I understand your concern. Let us be off then. It will be our final moments on Britain's soil."

Several minutes later, the boys were packed and began their march toward the docks, falling in line of the tail end of the 49th's formation. As the sun was reaching the horizon, casting a pale orange glow across the earth and water, the battalion reached its destination.  The wharf was still bustling from activity with merchants unloading their wares with the assistance of the dock workers as the Fencibles patrolled the vicinity, prepared to protect the kingdom from any external threat that could originate from France, Russia, Sweden, or Austria- countries that the kingdom was at war with on the European continent.  Upon seeing their brothers-in-arms marching toward the ship that would ferry them to the front lines.

"Look at the look of envy in their eyes," Winston noted as they marched toward their destination, the large galleon nestled between the merchant vessel and the small fluyt with red crosses on its sails that was to ferry pilgrims to Europe or any other place with religious significance. "It must bore those poor souls to tears to be away from the action on the frontlines on the continent and the colonies. "

"Or perhaps some they are content where they are," Thomas suggested, gazing over at their fellow redcoats, some donning white trousers while others bore tannish ones. "Must I point out that most look to be in their middle ages or not in peak physical shape? It is merely improbable for those patrolmen to engage in intense combat in the woods of Europe or the grasslands and swamps of the Americas."

"Nay," Sam agreed.  "At the very least, they service our kingdom by pretending to hold off the frogeaters. For that, they receive a stipend at the end of each day, just by doing naught. The only danger they face is their wives finding out how much they spend at the pleasure house and taking a flintlock to their heads or wandering out into the woods in their drunken state and getting gored by a boar. That is not counting them dropping dead from health complications or shooting each other over a game of horseshoe toss."

Before Winston could move his lips, the Lt. Colonel gave them the order to halt.  The hook-nosed commander of the regiment turned to face his troops.  The galleon,  looming in the background like a behemoth, had an ominous yet majestic look to it outlined in the dark orange firmament that stretched to the horizon like a quarter of a sphere. 

"Soldiers of the 49th!  Starting now, you have been granted the honor of deployment in the name of service to the Crown.  As a consequence of this blessing, I advise you to let go of all qualms and attachments you have left behind in Great Britain and focus your efforts on the fight for the motherland. "

"Bloody Hell!" Winston groaned.  "When will he put a sack on it so we could get inside the ship and head off for the colonies? I am itching for battle and I am tired of his incessant rambling. "

The sandy-haired enlistee had his request granted sooner than he thought.

"You will be met onboard by Sgt. Breighton. Young Breighton, who is 23 years of age, has proven himself in the Siege of Fort William Henry and has lived through several skirmishes with the French troops, regular and irregular, and their barbaric Indian allies who collect the scalps of fallen soldiers, dead or alive,  to garner more than enough experience in surviving battles and fighting for valor. You will be placed in good hands- Oi! There he is upon the ship's waist. "

Thomas glanced up to see an older young man leaning over the railings of the dark brown ship, waving them up.  The enthusiastic look on the lad's face led the schoolteacher to presume that the call to arms was strong with him despite being exposed to the horrors of war.

It's admirable that this young sergeant still has his composure despite seeing the blood of his comrades spilled.  Surely, his soul isn't corrupted with bloodlust or a desire for retribution against the men who killed those he saw as brothers for a short tenure or has it? Mayhaps he is well suited to prepare us for battle so we don't lose ourselves as we serve our king.

"Forward march! Board the vessel. We set out on the morrow. Use this chance to get settled and familiarize yourselves with each other as you will be as close as brothers for the battles to come. "

As the gangplank of their ship that would ferry them to the battlefield was lowered by two crewmen, Thomas glanced around the wharf to view the activity that seemed to bustle around them with dockhands unloading or loading cargo and servicing ships as the lanterns glowed like setting suns. Prior to the war with France, activity on the docks died down for the night, but things have changed as the war effort required more labor on the homefront to meet demands.

As soon as the new recruits of the Norbugh Battalion made it onto the ship's deck, Sgt. Breighton and a couple British Infantry soldiers in matching red trousers and coats, greeted them.

"Welcome aboard, recruits. We are pleased to have you along on the expedition. Ever since the snail gobblers attacked our position in the Putnam valley, we have been running dangerously low on troops. Thank the heavens,  you are here to reinforce our freshly depleted troops.  The 33rd Grey Destrier Infantry Brigade is grateful for your assistance.  Your presence may be beneficial in turning the tide of this war. As Lt. Colonel  Findlay may have told you, I am Sgt. Howard Breighton of the Destriers and I will serve as the liaison between our respective units.  Captain Walsh will be pleased once I bring him fresh troops and reinforcements from the motherland. "

As the fresh troops dispersed to find their quarters on deck, Sam turned to Thomas.

"You think we will undergo operations alongside the  dark brunet sergeant of the 33rd Brigade?"

Thomas nodded  as they let two infantrymen pass them before heading to the stairs that would lead them belowdecks.  

"I am sure we would. He is the liaison between our units. After all, he did say the manpower of his brigade is whittled down. Although, unlike most battle-hardened regulars, he seems fervent to head back into the grim reality of the warzone. "

"Perhaps he has the mental durability of a man born for war," Winston suggested. " He seems to treat battle like a blacksmith treats the forging of horseshoes. It is just business for him. "

"You have good point," Thomas surmised. "Perhaps we can learn to not let the lust of killing taint our soul. Does it take a mind of steel or is there a way to discipline and train the mind to remain pure throughout the carnage we will most likely witness."

"We can ask him during the duration of our journey west," Winston said,

That I intend to do. 

The sky above started to turn indigo as the first stars began to twinkle. Thomas followed his two new friends down to the belly of the ship. Pausing once, he turned to glance at the sky.

Father, Uncle, Abraham, you shall await no longer. I am on my way.