Rebel 1777
Chapter 7: Trenton

Copyright© 2014 by realoldbill

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 7: Trenton - A young soldier in Washington's army recalls his adventures.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Historical   Violence  

"Something's going on outside," Felicity said. Just then we all heard a cannon fire, somewhere off toward the river, a sharp, smacking sound...

"Damn," I said. "He did it. It's Washington." Half-dressed soldiers, some in Rall's blue others in the Lossberg's scarlet, were scrambling about in the square below, more coming every minute.

"There's Rall," said Felicity Snyder, excited, pointing at a lean man on horseback. "I've had dinner with him."

"Get these things loaded," I said to the women, starting to load my own musket after setting the bayonet aside. By the time I propped open the window, Rall and his men had disappeared up King Street while the Lossbergs began running theother way, following an officer waving a bright sword. Rall rode back into the square, and I shot at him and missed.

Several men in the snowy square looked up at the building as I pulled my rifle back in and reached for another. When I looked out, a man was pointing right at me. I braced the weapon against the corner of the frame and shot him in the chest, a fifty- maybe sixty-yard shot. He fell, and I mentally patted myself on the back.

The plaster above my head shattered, and I turned quickly to the assembly room. Three soldiers in black uniforms were kneeling by the door at the right. I leaned over the British officer and hit the one whose musket flashed as I aimed. He howled as the man at my knees slumped, blood flowing from his gaping mouth, his eyes glazing. I reached back for another weapon, but found no targets when I looked below. I could hear them reloading beneath us, ramrods rattling, and for some reason they both fired at once as I was untying the gag in the dead man's mouth. One shot tore through his limp leg, tossing it aside.

I grabbed up the sergeant's hanger, tossed away the scabbard with a flick and ran the down the steps, hearing the scabbard hit the floor and hoping it might distract the men below. The first German raised his musket to block me, and I stabbed him in the throat, withdrew and got him in the back as he collapsed toward me, spraying blood like a fountain. The second threw his gun and ramrod at me and ran for the door. I caught him half way across the floor and chopped at his thick neck and arched back three times before he fell. I turned him over with my foot, looked into his wide--open eyes and slashed his throat just as two more riflemen came in the arch on the far side of the room, twenty-five feet away.

I yelled and ran toward them since I could not think of what else to do. The first man was swinging his cocked musket toward me when a shot from above struck him in the chest and knocked him back into his partner, looking amazed. I stepped over the dead man and ran the second soldier through the middle of his body before he could cock his weapon. I scooped up those two muskets, left the sword in the writhing German, who seemed to be trying to pull it out with both hands, and ran back up the stairs. I heard him fall behind me. Susan was smiling and reloading a gun when I reached her.

"Good shot, eh?" she said with a smile. Ten dead men lay on the floor below us and the room was full of smoke, blood and the sulfurous smell of gunpowder.

A bullet smashed through the window between us. I heard the sharp report of small cannon out in the streets somewhere, probably firing grape shot. Rall galloped past again and a pane of glass shattered next to my cheek, making me jump back and ruining a good shot. I had seen that pan flash from the corner of my eye and poked out a musket and waited. The shooter stepped from a doorway on the other side of the square. I aimed at his head and hit him just about in the navel. He fell to his knees and then to his face, a hundred yard shot if there ever was one. It made me feel a lot better.

I saw Americans running down Queen Street toward the square with bayonets fixed, some of them beat down doors. Soon they began firing from the houses nearby, and German officers were falling all over the area. Rall rode under my window again, and I shot at him. I might have hit him or his horse, I saw him take a shot from someone else and fall. Two of his men dragged him from the street and soon the Germans were surrendering, first in small groups and then all the ones I could see. It was over.

I stood up and a booming shot from the floor hit the dead officer's body behind me with a dreadful thud. I dropped, crawled to the railing and looked down. The fat German officer who had helped hang us up the night before was standing in the middle of the big room with a smoking pistol in one hand and a raised one in the other. "Surrender," I yelled at him.

He fired the other pistol in my general direction, and I shot him right between the eyes; a big, round, dark hole suddenly appeared. He fell on his back, and Susan's leather purse slid from his belt and poured coins across the bloody floor.

The Battle of Trenton was over.

Chapter 8 »

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