Harrison and Tecumseh Collide-Again
American Colonel James Johnson’s horsemen bite into the British line at full gallop. “Remember the Raisin!” they shout to each other as they tear through the thin British line. Proctor, seated on his horse halfway between the two British lines, looks at the six-pounder cannon on his left. “Damn that gun! Why does it not fire?” The Americans ride through the first line and then the second. They wheel around to attack the remaining British from the rear. The gun crew flees. Proctor, stunned by the suddenness of the defeat, prepares to leave. No more than five minutes have passed since the charge. He asks his aide, Brigade Major John Hall, “Could we not join the Natives?” Hall points out the mounted Americans already moving through the swamp between them and the Natives. Now Proctor is galloping along the road towards Moraviantown with the Americans in hot pursuit, the sound of Tecumseh’s battle cry echoing in his ears. Colonel James Johnson’s brother, Richard, is leading his own charge of twenty horsemen dubbed “The Forlorn Hope” since none of them expect to survive. The plan is for the twenty to ride ahead of the main body to draw the Native fire, thereby allowing the main body to attack while the Natives are reloading. The plan is working. Governor Shelby (after whom Fort Detroit was renamed a month ago), leads the American infantry against the Natives in the swamp at the edge of the battlefield as well as the swamp in the middle of the battlefield. The Forlorn Hope is cut to pieces by the Native firepower. Colonel Richard Johnson, riddled with musket balls does, however, survive and will go on to become a future vice-president. Despite all the din of shouting, shrieking, dying, whooping, groaning, whinnying, bugles, cannon and musket fire, there is one sound that somehow rises above it all...the sound of Tecumseh’s voice urging his followers on. That voice is seemingly everywhere London Animal Care Centre • 121 Pine Valley Blvd, London www.accpets.ca • (519)685-1330 “All they want for Christmas is You”
until suddenly, it isn’t. The voice of Tecumseh has been stilled. Suddenly, sensing the battle is over, the Natives disappear into the underbrush leaving the field to the Americans. Fifty-five minutes have elapsed since Harrison ordered the first charge. Tecumseh, to the Americans and in particular, the Kentuckians, is a figure of legend, clouded in myth, much hated yet very much admired. For all of Tecumseh’s fame, no white American on the field this day, save General Harrison, even knew what the Shawnee chief looked like. General Harrison walked among the fallen Natives yet even he, who once was crowded off a shared bench by Tecumseh, could not find him on the battlefield. To the rest of the Kentuckians, it didn’t matter. To them, every dead Native was Tecumseh and they proceeded to cut strips of skin off any Native’s body to take back home as a souvenir. So who actually killed Tecumseh? Many credit Colonel Richard
Johnson with the deed, which he discounted. So, where is Tecumseh? (To be continued...)
December
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