anything to eat since dawn, and now the day is growing long. He can assume that Middleton’s men haven’t either. Gabriel’s men break into various French songs, taunting the English above them.
Gabriel has one more trick up his sleeve, another old prairie ruse. His reinforcements from Batoche have still not arrived, and Gabriel has to maintain the impression of a large force. With night a few hours away now, Middleton will surely attempt one more hard push to overrun the Métis, and he will most probably succeed, especially when the Canadians discover how tiny a force is actually holding them off. Gabriel’s lost more men to casualties and desertion over the course of the day, and in this late afternoon, the tiny bit of daylight warmth turning to cold and threatening sleet and rain, he makes his gamble, ordering his men to light on fire the prairie grasses between them and Middleton. The wind is in Gabriel’s favour, and the fire spreads. Wet from the morning rain, it burns low and smoky. Gabriel orders a number of his men to advance through the blaze and fire on the surprised Canadians before they have a chance to go on the offensive. He makes it clear that they should pick up every enemy rifle and round they can find. Gabriel hopes this minor offensive will cause enough confusion in the Canadian ranks for them to panic, and they do, but not enough to go into full retreat.
Gabriel’s trusted brother Edouard and eighty men finally arrive from Batoche not long before dusk, thus ensuring that Middleton won’t be able to flank Gabriel’s men in the ravine. As night falls it becomes too dark to see the enemy, and with both sides dehydrated and brutally hungry, Middleton begins to pull back his forces. Gabriel has done something astounding in holding them off. Much later, when he is asked how many men he thinks he shot that day, he answers simply, “I couldn’t have missed many.”
When the dead and wounded are counted, the number, by most standards of battle, isn’t high, but it speaks of the accuracy of Métis fire and the cruel efficiency of Gabriel’s tactics. He’s lost four men this day, with two wounded. But the small Métis force has inflicted fifty casualties upon Middleton’s forces, with ten killed. Basically, one in ten of Middleton’s soldiers are wounded or dead, a literal decimation. He’s stunned by this, as are his men, and it takes two weeks for them to lick their wounds and wait for reinforcements.
Gabriel, head pounding, barely makes it back to Batoche in his own saddle. But he does. Many of his men are forced to walk the long way home. More than fifty Métis horses were slaughtered in the ravine today, their large bodies picked off by Middleton’s soldiers.
Having not just seen but battled the enemy that Louis “David” now calls Goliath, Gabriel can only wish that he’d acted much earlier and against his friend’s demands. Goliath is certainly real. And when news reaches the Canadians that they’ve been handed a second defeat, Goliath will certainly come full on.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ordained
While Gabriel and his men fight General Middleton at Fish Creek, the battle waging all day, Louis fights his own battle back in Batoche. He fervently prays hour after hour, kneeling with his arms outstretched, petitioning God and His son, begging the Virgin Mary and Saint John the Baptist, patron of the Québécois, as well as Saint Joseph, newly minted saint of the Métis, to protect all his people, to protect Gabriel and the other brave soldiers, and especially to protect the women, the children, and the old ones of Batoche and surrounding areas. When Louis’s arms grow tired, he implores the women around him to help hold them up. Word arrives in the early afternoon that Gabriel needs more men desperately. Louis doesn’t want the ones who rode back with him last night and who now guard Batoche to leave, but Gabriel’s brother scoffs at this. He will not see his dear Gabriel die alone at the
Gabriel has one more trick up his sleeve, another old prairie ruse. His reinforcements from Batoche have still not arrived, and Gabriel has to maintain the impression of a large force. With night a few hours away now, Middleton will surely attempt one more hard push to overrun the Métis, and he will most probably succeed, especially when the Canadians discover how tiny a force is actually holding them off. Gabriel’s lost more men to casualties and desertion over the course of the day, and in this late afternoon, the tiny bit of daylight warmth turning to cold and threatening sleet and rain, he makes his gamble, ordering his men to light on fire the prairie grasses between them and Middleton. The wind is in Gabriel’s favour, and the fire spreads. Wet from the morning rain, it burns low and smoky. Gabriel orders a number of his men to advance through the blaze and fire on the surprised Canadians before they have a chance to go on the offensive. He makes it clear that they should pick up every enemy rifle and round they can find. Gabriel hopes this minor offensive will cause enough confusion in the Canadian ranks for them to panic, and they do, but not enough to go into full retreat.
Gabriel’s trusted brother Edouard and eighty men finally arrive from Batoche not long before dusk, thus ensuring that Middleton won’t be able to flank Gabriel’s men in the ravine. As night falls it becomes too dark to see the enemy, and with both sides dehydrated and brutally hungry, Middleton begins to pull back his forces. Gabriel has done something astounding in holding them off. Much later, when he is asked how many men he thinks he shot that day, he answers simply, “I couldn’t have missed many.”
When the dead and wounded are counted, the number, by most standards of battle, isn’t high, but it speaks of the accuracy of Métis fire and the cruel efficiency of Gabriel’s tactics. He’s lost four men this day, with two wounded. But the small Métis force has inflicted fifty casualties upon Middleton’s forces, with ten killed. Basically, one in ten of Middleton’s soldiers are wounded or dead, a literal decimation. He’s stunned by this, as are his men, and it takes two weeks for them to lick their wounds and wait for reinforcements.
Gabriel, head pounding, barely makes it back to Batoche in his own saddle. But he does. Many of his men are forced to walk the long way home. More than fifty Métis horses were slaughtered in the ravine today, their large bodies picked off by Middleton’s soldiers.
Having not just seen but battled the enemy that Louis “David” now calls Goliath, Gabriel can only wish that he’d acted much earlier and against his friend’s demands. Goliath is certainly real. And when news reaches the Canadians that they’ve been handed a second defeat, Goliath will certainly come full on.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ordained
While Gabriel and his men fight General Middleton at Fish Creek, the battle waging all day, Louis fights his own battle back in Batoche. He fervently prays hour after hour, kneeling with his arms outstretched, petitioning God and His son, begging the Virgin Mary and Saint John the Baptist, patron of the Québécois, as well as Saint Joseph, newly minted saint of the Métis, to protect all his people, to protect Gabriel and the other brave soldiers, and especially to protect the women, the children, and the old ones of Batoche and surrounding areas. When Louis’s arms grow tired, he implores the women around him to help hold them up. Word arrives in the early afternoon that Gabriel needs more men desperately. Louis doesn’t want the ones who rode back with him last night and who now guard Batoche to leave, but Gabriel’s brother scoffs at this. He will not see his dear Gabriel die alone at the
Similar Books
