Chapter Thirty-One: Stony Point

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Melancholia was a cover diagnosis for most mental illness in the 1770s. Symptoms include panic attacks, depression, psychosis, body dysmorphia, schizophrenia, BPD, DID and many more.

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To My dear Marquis.

At the moment of writing this, I am currently outside of Washington's camp. I am just North of New York with General Wayne at Stony Point- His Excellency's orders, since he wants me there for reasons that are too petty to disclose. It's been three weeks, and have they been eventful.

And, My God, while the man is more American than the half of the Continental Army combined, why didn't anyone warn me that Wayne's a madman?

"Colonel! Are you awake?" I groan internally, putting my quill down and blowing on the ink. Putting on my best polite voice I can muster, I shout out a "Yes?"

I'm startled when General Wayne enters my tent without hesitation. He laughs at my baffled reaction. "Rise and shine then, sweetheart- His Excellency expects a job well done!"

I sigh deeply and nod, putting away my parchment and quill. He stops me by catching my wrist. "Will you not need those, sir?"

I'm a bit taken aback by the forwardness, but it's actually nothing surprising coming from him. I clear my throat and he releases my wrist. I avoid looking at his bandaged head. "Nay, sir, I'll do the rounds before counting anything."

"Alright then, I shall wait for you outside."

"Sir, with all due respect, I was with you during the ambush- I'm sure I can manage," I answer, wincing when a bit of blood runs down his forehead. "Should you not be resting?"

"Oh, 'tis but a scratch, do not worry yourself sick!" He laughs, gesturing to his bandaged head. "I placed you in the rear for a reason- I would be in quite such trouble if I got one of Washington aide's killed. All you saw of the ambush were the headless dogs," He says with a scoff and then exits the tent, leaving me with a sick feeling in my stomach. 

Today is the first morning after our successful night-time ambush of Stony Point. The fort was actually protected quite well, but General Wayne's extreme caution paired with von Steuben's training had caught the soldiers completely off guard. I watched from the back as Wayne successfully captured the point, and I'm not sure if I'm impressed or terrified.

I quickly realized that this man- despite his Southern upbringing and uptight manners- had a few screws loose in his head. During the entire march, he was incredibly strict and loud, not afraid to publicly humiliate his soldiers. He strived for perfection, and, I realized, would not let anything get in his way.

One example was that we passed many farms, most of which had dogs. Their only purpose was to alert their owners of unwanted guests- Wayne had none of that, and our trail was littered with animal blood and heads.

I wish that I could tell a dramatic story of the ambush, but Wayne quickly put me at the very back when I informed him that I've never killed anyone before. While I was a bit disappointed, the shouts, screams  and shots that soon followed changed my mind.

I was here for a job- witnessing a slaughter would distract me from it.

But at one point, I had gotten mixed up in the heat of battle- I decided to make myself useful and give out gunpowder to those who need it- and I had witnessed the most peculiar event.

"Damnation!"

"General Wayne has been shot!" I stop what I'm doing to find the man who said that. Amidst of all the blood and chaos I could barely see through the many rushing bodies. Yet before I could call for help, I heard a familiar voice.

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