Patriot To Oblivion

Chapter One

In the early spring of 1777, the sun shining through the tree limbs caused chunks of melting snow to fall in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Pennsylvania.  The air felt as stone cold as the deep blue Potomac looked with its white water foam rushing past Charles.

It sure is quiet up here, the Potomac’s running full this spring Charles thought to himself.  You would never believe that there’s a war going on to the north.

Charles Foddrill had heard such rumors from other wilderness men he met on the trap line on his way down the mountain.  Arriving a short way from Leesburg, Virginia, Charles came out of the mountains and headed into the village.

Walking toward the village he was about to cross paths with a man who he would become friends with for the rest of his years.  As they neared the crossroads and each other, Charles could see the man’s bushy brown beard.  His clothes were filthy, and they were store bought.

This man walked as if he had always had paved roads under his feet.  None of the weathered, leathery looks that you would find in a man who lived outdoors for very long.  Yep, looks like he's been on the trail for sometime, ‘bout as long as me.  Thought Charles as he leveled hi flintlock at the man.  A man had to be careful way out here, ready to move all the time.  “Are you a Brit?” he yelled.

“Hell no!  Do I look like a Brit?”

“Well, I don’t know.  I never seen one before.”

Irritated, the man said, “Me neither, but I sure as hell ain’t one! 

“Where you comin’ from?”  Charles asked as they walked closer.

“I’m comin’ down from Philadelphia way.”  Said the man, “There’s talk about a fight brewin’ by the Brits.  There’s a man from Virginia looking for good men to back him in this fight.  I heard many tales.  Sure as hell unsettling to a man who lived in Philadelphia, mostly."

“Hell, it ain’t my fight.”  Charles said, relaxing, “I’ll git rid of these here furs and git some supplies and tradin’ goods for the Indians in the Ole Blues.  Then git back there and mind my own business.  A man’s already got it so poor that he ain’t got no time for fightin’”

As they came face to face the man replied, “You have a darn good idea there Mr. ---, what did you say your name was?”

“Well I’m Charles Foddrell.  Been livin in the Ole Blues for many years now.  Don’t remember much afore that.  Been to Palmyra, but this year decided on Leesburg.”

The two men walked side by side down the path to a time that would change their lives forever.  They could hear people laughing.  Fighting.  People going about their business, wagons rattling into town, dogs barking, and the shouts of children.