On the 29th of December, the 1st N.Y. Vol. Inf are advancing north from New York City. The weather is very cold with a light snowfall, the troops are bundled in anything extra they can find, scarves, old bits of blankets, any rags made of cloth. Some lucky soldiers even have warm buckskin or beaver hats. Most however, pray for a stop and a warm fire. The division has been on the march since late on the 22nd. Supplies have been less than reliable, but the men push on to help their brothers in Boston. In between is the 12,000 man Swedish army. Many volunteers swell the ranks of the militia on the march from New York, as news of the invasion spread, throughout the colony.
Chosen to lead the group is General William Heath, a retired veteran from the American Revolution. Heath volunteered his services as soon as he heard of the invasion. William who lives in Massachusetts was on a visit to New York City, to see his friends daughter get married, he volunteered for the position, upon hearing news of the invasion. He was given the the rank of Lieutenant General of Militia after an anonymous vote of the soldiers in the area, they were happy to have a man of his quality lead them. The new General wasted no time and began forming his regiments and brigades. At 9pm on the 22nd his division began the march north out of the city. His supplies were in a state of chaos and ammunition was low, what wagons
were available fell behind quickly. Some of his men were lucky to have 15 rounds of ammunition. The force had no artillery, but the limited reconnaissance available to him, told of the enemies vast shortage of artillery as well.
Early the next morning reports of the enemy being nearby started to come in. Ahead of him was a large open field and on his left flank was the Hudson River. At 5 am he called an emergency officers call, where he told his brigade commanders his plans.He would place his main force in a line of battle, with a reserve of two regiments 200 yards behind, with his left flank against the river. The reserve Brigade was dubbed the 2nd Brigade and would be commanded by a man named P.T. Cullum, who possessed alot of combat experience, an unequaled reputation for barroom brawling, and a passion for dueling. Brigadier General Cullum also has a reputation as an Indian fighter, and fought in the Battle of Fallen Timbers, where the famed Legion of the United States, defeated an oganization of Indian tribes. The battle was a rout but legend says Cullum had a two day battle with a Potawatomi Chief known as Rain Cloud, who knife fought him until both fell from exhaustion. The next morning Cullum woke up in the forest with a tomahawk laying next to his head, and the feather of an eagle on his chest. Cullum not knowing or caring about the Indians asked what this meant, an old Indian scout in his sub-legion told him, "When one receives an Eagle Feather that person is being acknowledged with gratitude, with love, and with ultimate respect." P.T. always respected Indians afterward and always remembered Rain Cloud, but never saw him again. He carried the very tomahawk with him at his side today.
By 6:30 am the lines of battle were set, riding his brown charger, General Heath rode up and down the line collecting cheers as he rode. "Look upon our enemy men, with their powdered wigs and perfect uniforms. They invade our land and not for a tax, for a tribute. Yes Men! A Tribute! Gold is the measure of their valor! Ours is Glory!" With that he reared his horse, and drew his sword, and cried out, "Wait for my command to fire, and hold steady!"
The Swedish came on quickly with discipline and order. Their General Dobeln rallied them from the back of a large black horse.
General Dobeln rallies his men
His men let out a rising cheer, then the ranks began to move forward towards the Americans. The fog of the morning still clung to the ground, and the hazy light was still trying to pervade the clinging darkness. Soon the stomping of boots was heard louder and louder, some frightened Americans dropped their muskets and ran. Suddenly out of the murky fog came the imposing Swedish infantry, their numbers hard to determine. They halted about fifty yards from the New York Volunteers and dressed ranks. The orders Klar! Mål! Eld! were given, at that the whole line erupted in a hail of musketry.
Swedish Infantry open fire
Huge swaths of Americans fall to the ground all along the line. Some fall screaming, most never rise again. General Heath then gave out the cry to fire. The intensity of the smoke was impenetrable as the volley let loose. Many Swedes collapse in piles as bodies clumped together in ghastly formations of horror.
New York Militia returns fire.
The enemy infantry met the Americans muzzle to muzzle and soon gained the upper hand. Two more Swedish volleys racked the Americans so, that it seemed not many remained. The surviving Militia turned with fright, with the new experience of war in their minds, and fled unorderly, in a panic stricken mass, from the field. There was no stopping them, they went in all different directions some tripping over muskets thrown down in haste to escape. General Heath chased along to try to slow them down. All was in vain the main body of troops disappeared in a rout, probably ongoing until New York is reached.
Situation 7:45am: 1st New York Volunteer Infantry retreats
The only force left on the field are the troops under the command of Cullum, a force of 1200, two full regiments. His men allowed the deserters through the ranks not even trying to stop them. The general shouted the order to charge bayonets, for he knew this wonderful fog that continues to surround the area, would be the enemy's undoing. Where the fog receded, smoke from the recent musketry filled the void. The order for double quick was sounded and the men's pace quickened, gunpowder permeated their flaring nostrils, as anger boiled deep in their souls for revenge. 1200 bayonets pointed forward as the men were almost full speed. The flag bearer dropped the regimental colors, and another soldier picked it up and tucked the flag under one arm and his musket under the other. As the first blue and yellow Swedish uniforms came into view, Cullum at the top of his voice, while waving his sword, shouted, "CHARGE BOYS!" As the first blue and yellow Swedish uniforms came into view. All the men screamed at the top of their lungs as they smashed into the surprised Swedish infantry. The force of impact sent such shockwaves through the enemy column, so fierce that the Swedish left flank was completely caved in. The flank was completely rolled up, and the remnants broke and fled, but the charging bayonets, kept them pinned and the only direction for the terrified soldiers to go was back to the rear of their own lines. In the meantime the frontal assault crashed into the foe with no mercy, men were massacred by the hundreds with no room to maneuver and even to lift their muskets to defend themselves. The bloodshed seemed never ending, men were stabbed or shot any where that could be imagined. Corpse upon corpse piled up, and blood soaked the damp ground. The Americans did not stop they just kept slaughtering them. One Swedish Colonel was lifted off the ground and carried away by two soldiers, their bayonets both deep in his back. The man still swung his sword wildly in an attempt to maim his attackers. Cullum who was nearby swung his tomahawk and chopped into the Colonels face, severing his head in two as easy as a melon. With a furious laugh he continued on into the fray, like a maniac let loose from an asylum. The fight continued in a frenzy of horror. Soon the carnage became so desperate for the Swedish Infantry, that they tried to turn and retreat. They ended up heading straight into their own frightened exhausted men who came towards them trying to escape the bayonets in their backs. Soon they were being annihilated, surrounded on three sides, many laid down their arms and pleaded for mercy. Individuals who could, escaped from the Americans, by running along the river bank to the north. More and more were able to get away because instead of pushing towards the river to cut off their enemies, Cullum's men were in a state of rage unequaled, and were busy obliterating those in their midst. Of 2,500 men, only two hundred were left, now surrounded. Some 1,100 were able to escape. The rest of some 1,200 were killed or wounded. The remaining were lead by a captain, who tried to surrender immediately. But somebody fired a musket off that hit Cullum in the ear. The man became furious with hatred. He roared a blood curdling yell and charged in swinging his tomahawk, killing a score of the enemy by his own hand. The remaining Swedish attempted to fight back but they were exhausted, all they could hope to do is hold off their death blow for as long as their strength allowed. This was not long soon all were dead. The Americans were also exhausted as many fell and collapsed, as the rush of adrenaline wore off. Most lay in piles of enemy dead with no care of what had transpired, they were too tired to care.