3. Heroes and Villains of the French and Indian War: The Braddock Expedition

My Name is Scarrooyady: Oneida Leader and Diplomat

I was born among the Oneida, one of the Six Nations of the Haudenosaunee, known to others as the Iroquois Confederacy. From a young age, I was taught the ways of my people—hunting, council traditions, and the importance of diplomacy in a world surrounded by rivals and allies alike. The forests and rivers of our homeland shaped my life, but so too did the constant pressures of Europeans pushing into our lands.

Rising as a Leader

As I grew, my voice carried more weight in council fires. I became known as a man who could speak firmly yet fairly, a leader who understood both the traditions of my ancestors and the new realities of dealing with the English and the French. I traveled to meetings with colonial governors and war chiefs, often acting as a bridge between two worlds that did not trust each other.

Diplomacy and the British Alliance

The Haudenosaunee Confederacy had long tried to balance between the French and the English, but my path drew me closer to the British. I believed they offered our people a stronger chance to hold our lands, though I never forgot that they too were ambitious and self-interested. I spoke at Lancaster and Albany, urging my people and the colonists to strengthen ties and resist French advances. It was not easy—trust was fragile, and both sides often failed to keep promises.

The Time of Braddock

When General Braddock arrived with red-coated soldiers, I knew he carried great strength but also great arrogance. I warned him that the forests of the Ohio Country were not like the fields of Europe. I urged him to listen to Native scouts, to adapt his ways, but he dismissed my counsel. In my heart I feared disaster, for I could see that a man who would not bend to the land or respect its people would soon be broken by them.

The Battle and Aftermath

At the Monongahela, my fears became truth. The French and their Native allies struck with cunning and fury, and the British line crumbled. I saw the pride of Braddock destroyed in a storm of smoke and terror. Many of my people shook their heads, saying the English could not be trusted to lead. I stayed, trying to keep the ties from breaking completely, but I knew the wound was deep. Braddock’s death was not just the end of a man, but the beginning of a wider war.

Later Years and Reflections

I continued to act as a voice for peace when possible, though war consumed much of the land. I tried to guide my people through storms of fire and betrayal, for both the French and English saw us as tools in their struggle. My life was filled with councils, warnings, and the endless task of keeping balance where balance seemed impossible. Looking back, I see a path walked between two worlds, never fully trusted by either, but always striving to protect the Oneida and the Haudenosaunee. That was my duty, and I bore it with the weight of my people’s hopes.

The Struggle for the Ohio Valley – Told by Scarrooyady

The Ohio Valley was not empty land waiting for Europeans to claim it. It was the heart of our hunting grounds, our villages, and our trade paths. The rivers carried not only fish and water but also the lifeblood of our people’s way of life. To us, the land was sacred, a place we had long walked and guarded, where balance with nature and with neighboring nations meant survival.

French Claims and Presence

The French came first with their priests, traders, and soldiers. They built forts along the rivers, saying the land belonged to their king across the ocean. They spoke of friendship and offered trade goods, but we knew they wanted to tie us to their cause. Some of our people welcomed the gifts and the promises, yet others feared being bound too tightly to men who lived so far away and who cared little for our freedom.

British Pressure from the East

The British pressed from the east, their numbers growing greater each year. They brought not only goods but farmers, settlers, and families who cut the forests and fenced the fields. Their leaders spoke of loyalty to their king, but their people spread quickly, taking more land than words could justify. To them, the Ohio Valley was not a shared hunting ground—it was new soil to be claimed and settled.

The Native Struggle for Balance

Caught between these two powers were the nations of the Haudenosaunee and many others. We were not silent or powerless, but we knew the danger of choosing wrongly. Some sought alliance with the French, others leaned toward the British, but many of us wished for balance, to play one side against the other so that neither would grow strong enough to destroy us. Our greatest concern was not which king would rule, but whether our people would survive with lands, honor, and freedom intact.

The Rising Tensions

As forts rose and armies gathered, the Ohio Valley became the spark of greater war. I saw the warnings clearly. To the French, it was empire. To the British, it was expansion. To us, it was home. And so the struggle for the Ohio Valley was not just a contest of kings but a test of whether the Native nations could hold their place in a world where outsiders drew lines across our rivers and forests as if we did not exist.

My Name is Jean-Daniel Dumas: French Officer of New France

I was born in France in 1721, raised in a nation proud of its armies and its empire. From my youth, I learned that service to the crown was the highest calling. I trained as a soldier, studying discipline and tactics, knowing that one day I might be sent far beyond the borders of France to defend its honor.

Journey to New France

My path led me across the Atlantic to New France, where the wilderness demanded a different kind of soldier. In Canada, the forests were thick, the rivers wide, and the alliances with Native nations were as important as muskets and cannons. I served first in smaller posts, learning how French soldiers had to adapt, working closely with our allies who knew the land better than any European ever could.

Command at Fort Duquesne

When France and Britain pressed harder against each other in the Ohio Valley, I was stationed at Fort Duquesne. It was a stronghold built to guard the forks of the Ohio River, where three rivers met, and it became the key to the west. I worked alongside French officers and Native allies, learning to respect their ways of war. They taught me how speed, stealth, and the use of the land could outmatch European drill and order.

The Battle of the Monongahela

In July 1755, word came that General Braddock was advancing with a massive British force, determined to drive us from the Ohio Valley. With Captain Beaujeu leading, we prepared an ambush. Beaujeu was killed at the very start, and in that desperate moment command fell to me. I rallied our men, calling the French and Native warriors to press the attack. The forest exploded with musket fire, war cries, and smoke. The British, trapped in their lines and unable to adapt, fell into chaos. That day, our smaller force crushed a much larger army. It was the greatest victory of my life, though it was soaked in blood.

Recognition and Responsibility

The success at the Monongahela brought me honor. The governor of New France praised my leadership, and my name was carried back across the ocean. Yet with honor came heavier burdens. War spread across the continent, and soon across the world. I commanded in many battles, always trying to balance the bravery of French soldiers with the cunning of our Native allies. Each campaign tested not only my skill but also my endurance in a conflict that seemed endless.

Later Years and Reflections

I lived to see the tides turn against us. Britain brought overwhelming numbers, and France could no longer hold the vast lands of New France. Still, I carried pride in the stand we made at Fort Duquesne and in the men who fought beside me. I later returned to France, where I continued to serve until my death in 1794. Looking back, I remember myself not as a man of titles or honors, but as a soldier who stood in the heart of the wilderness, at a moment when the fate of empires was decided by courage, timing, and trust in one’s allies.

The French Expansion and Fort Building (Fort Duquesne) – Told by Dumas

France looked upon the Ohio Valley as the key to linking our territories in Canada with those along the Mississippi. If we held this land, we could bind together a vast empire stretching from Quebec to Louisiana. The rivers were the roads of this wilderness, and whoever controlled them would command the future of North America. Our mission was clear: we must secure the valley before the British spread their settlements into it.

The Strategy of Forts

Our method was not to send endless waves of settlers, as the British did, but to build strong forts along the waterways. Each fort was a symbol of French power and a gathering place for trade and diplomacy with Native nations. They allowed us to move troops, store supplies, and maintain our presence without scattering our people across the forests. It was a system of strength through control of the rivers and trust in our alliances.

The Building of Fort Duquesne

At the forks of the Ohio, where the Allegheny and Monongahela rivers join to form the Ohio River, we built Fort Duquesne. Its position was perfect, commanding the water routes in every direction. The work was hard, for the wilderness resisted us, but our engineers, soldiers, and Native allies made it possible. We raised walls of timber and earth, dug ditches, and prepared cannon to guard the approaches. The fort was not large, but it was formidable enough to show that France would not abandon its claim.

Alliances with Native Nations

We did not rely only on wood and stone. We relied on people. Many Native nations saw that we sought trade, not permanent settlement. They joined us in alliance, providing warriors, scouts, and knowledge of the land. Together, we created a defense far stronger than the walls themselves. Fort Duquesne stood not only as a military outpost but also as a meeting ground of cultures and allies, a place where the French promise of respect for Native ways brought strength.

The Challenge of the British

Yet we knew the British would not ignore us. Their eyes were already fixed on the Ohio Valley, and their numbers grew year by year. They believed our forts were threats, and they were right. To hold Fort Duquesne was to challenge their ambition. For us, it was not just a post but a declaration: France would remain in the heart of the continent, and the Ohio Valley would not fall into British hands without a fight.

My Name is Edward Braddock: General of His Majesty’s Army

I was born in 1695 in England, into a world where service to the crown was the highest honor. My father was a soldier, and I too chose that life. From a young age, I trained in the ways of war, learning the discipline of the British Army, where obedience and order were the pillars of success. I earned my commission and spent many years in Europe, rising through the ranks not through glory in battle but through steady service and loyalty.

Service Before America

Before I ever set foot in the New World, I fought in Europe. I learned the art of moving men, drilling regiments, and maintaining discipline in the field. The battlefield was unforgiving, and in those campaigns I came to believe that strict order and unwavering courage could overcome any enemy. By the time I was an older man, I had earned the reputation of being harsh, even severe, but I believed that without firmness an army could not succeed.

Appointment to the American Command

In 1754, Britain resolved to send troops to North America to drive out the French who threatened the Ohio Valley. I was chosen to command this expedition, not for daring feats but for my experience and steadiness. I accepted with pride, determined to bring British arms to victory in a land that seemed wild and untested. My orders were clear: take Fort Duquesne from the French and secure the frontier. I believed the task, though difficult, would be met with European precision and discipline.

March into the Wilderness

Once in Virginia, I gathered my men—red-coated regulars, colonial troops, and a few Native allies. The march through the wilderness was unlike anything I had known. The forests were thick, the roads barely paths, and the supply lines stretched thin. Still, I insisted on maintaining European order: columns, wagons, drums, and flags. Some said I was too rigid, that the wilderness required new methods, but I held to my training. Discipline, I believed, was our greatest weapon.

The Battle of the Monongahela

On July 9, 1755, as we crossed the Monongahela River, I felt pride in the neat lines of my men. We marched as if on parade, confident that our numbers and strength would overwhelm the French. But the attack came sudden and fierce. From the forests poured musket fire and war cries, unseen enemies striking with deadly accuracy. My men faltered, unable to see their attackers, and panic spread. I rode among them, shouting, rallying, determined to hold the line. Then a musket ball struck me down. Even as I fell, I urged my men to stand, but chaos consumed them.

My Final Days

I was carried from the field, grievously wounded, as the army retreated in ruin. The pain was sharp, but sharper still was the knowledge that I had failed. Within days, I knew death was upon me. I gave my last orders, asked that my men be cared for, and accepted my fate. On July 13, 1755, I died and was buried in an unmarked grave along the road we had cut, so the enemy would not disturb my rest.

Reflections Beyond Death

In life, I was a soldier of the old ways, unbending and steadfast. In death, I became a lesson in the dangers of pride and rigidity. The defeat at the Monongahela shocked Britain and emboldened the French, setting the colonies on a road to wider war. My story is one of ambition, duty, and failure, but also of a man who never wavered in his loyalty to his king and his command, even in the face of disaster.

The British Parliamentary Decisions to Send Troops – Told by Edward Braddock

By the early 1750s, Britain grew deeply concerned about the advances of France in North America. Reports reached Parliament that French soldiers and their allies were pushing into the Ohio Valley, building forts, and threatening the colonies. The colonial militias were small and untrained, unable to stand against French regulars. Parliament debated long and hard, for sending troops across the ocean was no small matter, but in the end they resolved that the defense of the empire required decisive action.

The Choice of Regulars

It was decided that the colonies could no longer fight this contest alone. Parliament resolved to send not just supplies or officers but full regiments of His Majesty’s regular troops. This was a clear signal: Britain would not abandon its claims to the Ohio Valley. To London, the colonies were part of a greater empire, and the empire must be defended with the finest soldiers of the crown. The decision was not only military but also political, for it told France and the colonies alike that the king would act with authority.

My Appointment as Commander

In this moment of decision, I was chosen to lead the expedition. My years of service in Europe, my discipline, and my reputation for order commended me to the task. The king and Parliament gave me clear orders: sail to America, gather the regiments, and drive the French from Fort Duquesne. I accepted the command with pride, for I believed that trained soldiers of Britain could accomplish what colonial militias could not.

Expectations of Victory

Parliament’s decision filled me with confidence. They believed, as I did, that two regiments of regulars, disciplined and drilled, would sweep aside the French in the wilderness. Supplies, funds, and authority were placed in my hands. It was expected that our show of strength would not only secure the Ohio Valley but also remind the colonies of Britain’s power and protection. At that moment, all seemed set for a swift and certain victory.

The Weight of Responsibility

Yet even as I prepared to embark, I knew the weight of Parliament’s decision rested upon me. I was to be the instrument of their will, the proof that Britain could enforce its claims in the New World. The task was clear, the resources provided, and the honor of the army and the empire placed in my hands. I sailed to America believing the matter would be settled quickly, for I trusted that the discipline of British regulars could overcome any obstacle in the wilds of America.

Braddock’s Appointment as Commander – Told by Edward Braddock

In 1754, when the reports of French advances in the Ohio Valley reached London, His Majesty’s ministers resolved to send regular troops to North America. Among the officers considered, my name was chosen. After decades of faithful service in Europe, I was appointed commander-in-chief of His Majesty’s forces in the colonies. It was the greatest honor of my career, and I accepted it with the resolve that I would fulfill my orders with precision and discipline.

The Orders from the Crown

The orders I received were direct and clear. I was to take command of two regiments of regular soldiers and, with the aid of colonial forces, march upon the French stronghold at Fort Duquesne. My duty was to drive the French from the Ohio Valley, secure the frontier, and remind the colonists and the enemy alike of Britain’s strength. The king entrusted me with this mission not merely as a soldier but as a symbol of imperial authority.

Expectations of Succes

sI understood what was required. In Europe, I had learned that discipline and order were the keys to victory. I expected that those same principles would bring triumph in America. With regular troops, proper supply, and a clear objective, I believed the campaign would be swift. Many in Parliament and in the colonies shared this belief—that British arms would settle the matter quickly and decisively.

The Burden of Leadership

Along with honor came great weight. I knew I carried the expectations of king and Parliament, as well as the reputation of the British Army. My every action would be judged not only by soldiers under my command but also by colonial assemblies and the distant court in London. Failure was unthinkable, for it would shake Britain’s authority in America and embolden our enemies.

My Sense of Duty

In accepting the appointment, I pledged myself fully to the mission. I was a soldier of the crown, bound by loyalty and honor. My task was not for personal glory but for the empire I served. I believed then, as I always had, that duty and discipline would lead us to victory, and I set sail for America confident that the campaign ahead would bring honor to His Majesty and to my command.

My Name is Thomas Gage: Officer of His Majesty’s Army

I was born in 1719 into a family of standing in England. From youth, the path of service in the king’s army was clear to me. I entered the military as a young man, eager to prove myself in the profession of arms. Like many officers of my class, I learned discipline, drill, and the order of European warfare, preparing for campaigns that would shape my life.

First Campaigns and Service Abroad

My early years of service took me to Europe, where I fought in the War of the Austrian Succession. There I gained the experience of battle and the knowledge of how armies moved and clashed on the open field. These lessons in strategy and command gave me confidence, yet I also learned that war demanded adaptability. Victory belonged not only to the bold but to those who could change with circumstance.

Braddock’s Expedition to the Ohio Valley

In 1755, I was chosen to accompany General Edward Braddock on his expedition to capture Fort Duquesne in the Ohio Valley. I was a major then, still young enough to be eager but seasoned enough to see flaws in our preparations. The march through the wilderness was unlike anything I had known in Europe. The forests closed in, supply lines faltered, and Native allies offered advice that too often went unheeded. I observed Braddock’s determination to keep European order, though it clashed with the reality of frontier war.

The Battle of the Monongahela

On July 9, 1755, our army was struck by the French and their Native allies. The ambush at the Monongahela was chaos beyond measure. Men fired wildly, unable to see the enemy. Lines crumbled, officers fell, and fear spread like fire through the ranks. I saw General Braddock struck down, and I did what I could to maintain order, though it seemed as if the very wilderness itself had swallowed us whole. We retreated in ruin, and I carried the memory of that day as both a wound and a lesson in the cost of arrogance.

Later Service in America

I continued to serve in North America through the French and Indian War. I commanded in other campaigns, saw victories and defeats, and learned the harsh truth that empire was not easily maintained in distant lands. After the war, I remained in the colonies, rising to command British forces as tensions with the American settlers grew.

The American Revolution

By 1774, I was appointed military governor of Massachusetts, charged with enforcing British authority in Boston. It was a difficult task, for the colonists had grown restless and rebellious. I tried to maintain order, but resentment boiled over into open resistance. I ordered troops to secure arms and supplies at Concord, and the shots fired there ignited the American Revolution. Though I had served the king faithfully, history would remember me as the officer whose command oversaw the spark of rebellion.

Reflections in Later Years

I returned to England, my reputation burdened by failure in America. Yet I look back on my life as one of service. From the forests of the Ohio Valley to the streets of Boston, I did my duty as I understood it. I witnessed the rise of new wars, the fall of old certainties, and the birth of a new nation out of defiance. My story is bound to both defeat and loyalty, for I remained a soldier of the crown until my last days in 1787.

Gathering Troops and Resources in Virginia – Told by Thomas Gage

When we first arrived in Virginia, the task before us seemed straightforward: assemble the troops, gather supplies, and prepare for the march into the wilderness. Yet I quickly saw that the reality was far different. The colonies were not like Europe, where resources could be drawn from long-established systems. Here, roads were rough, wagons were scarce, and the people were cautious in their support.

The Composition of the Army

General Braddock commanded two regiments of His Majesty’s regulars, seasoned soldiers who had crossed the ocean to enforce the king’s will. To these were added colonial recruits—militia and volunteers, men willing but often undisciplined. It fell upon officers like myself to try and mold them into a force that could march and fight alongside professionals. The gap between British regulars and colonial troops was wide, and the tension between them constant.

The Struggle for Supplies

One of our greatest difficulties was finding wagons, horses, and food. The Virginia countryside had little to spare, and local farmers were reluctant to part with their goods for fair prices. Many resisted altogether, forcing us to requisition what we needed. This bred resentment among the colonists, who felt we were taking without proper respect. Every wagon gained was a small victory, but the slowness of this work weighed heavily on our preparations.

Colonial Reluctance

I came to see how divided the colonies were in their loyalty and commitment. Some supported the expedition eagerly, hoping to rid themselves of the French threat, while others viewed us as outsiders pressing them into burdens they had not chosen. Promises made by colonial assemblies often came late or in short measure. It became clear that while Britain expected unity, the colonies saw themselves as separate, each guarding its own interests.

Readiness for the March

By the time we gathered the men and supplies, months had passed. The army was slow to form, and every step forward was hindered by shortages and disputes. Still, we managed to ready the force at last, though not without friction between officers, colonists, and suppliers. For me, it was an early lesson in how difficult it was to fight a war in America—not only against the French and their allies, but also against the challenges of the land and the doubts of the people.

Native Diplomacy and the Failure to Secure Allies – Told by Scarrooyady

For my people and for many other nations, war was never fought alone. Alliances were our strength, woven together through councils, gifts, and respect. When the French or the British sought our support, we listened closely to their words and watched their actions. We judged not only their promises but their willingness to honor our traditions and treat us as equals. Diplomacy was not a formality; it was the lifeblood of survival.

Braddock’s Arrival and Approach

When General Braddock came with his red-coated soldiers, we expected him to call councils, offer gifts, and show the respect that secured friendship. Yet he came with a heart full of pride and a mind closed to our ways. He spoke of his king and of orders, but not of kinship or balance. To him, we were either with him or against him, and there was no middle ground. Such words may command soldiers, but they do not win nations.

The Alienation of Allies

Many nations had reason to fight against the French, yet they hesitated to join Braddock. They saw that he dismissed Native advice and treated our warriors as if they were lesser than his regulars. When councils broke down, so too did the bonds that might have been forged. I urged him to be patient, to listen, and to follow the old ways of diplomacy, but he believed strength alone would bring victory. His arrogance pushed away allies who might have stood beside him.

The Few Who Remained

A handful of us stayed, not out of trust in Braddock, but out of concern for the balance of power. We knew that if France gained too much, our people would be trapped between empires. Yet it was a thin alliance, fragile and uncertain. Warriors who might have numbered in the hundreds were reduced to a few, their spirits cooled by Braddock’s disdain.

The Consequences of Failure

When Braddock marched toward Fort Duquesne, he did so with an army lacking the strength of Native allies who knew the land and its dangers. He had numbers, discipline, and cannons, but he did not have the eyes and hearts of the forest on his side. His failure to secure alliances was not only a failure of words—it was the beginning of his downfall. For in the Ohio Valley, no empire could stand without the friendship of the nations who called it home.

The March from Alexandria to Fort Cumberland – Told by Edward Braddock

From the moment I arrived in Virginia, my task was to assemble the regiments and prepare for the advance into the Ohio Country. At Alexandria, on the banks of the Potomac, we gathered the men, supplies, and wagons that would form the lifeblood of the campaign. The place bustled with activity, yet progress came slower than I desired. Colonial officials debated, supplies trickled in, and every wagon seemed to require endless negotiation. Still, I pressed forward, determined to bring order to the effort.

The Road to Fort Cumberland

The march from Alexandria to Fort Cumberland was meant to be the first stage, a simple movement to concentrate our forces at the edge of the frontier. But the roads were narrow, rutted, and broken. Wagons sank into the mud, horses faltered, and bridges had to be built where none existed. Each day seemed consumed with obstacles, and the pace of the army frustrated me greatly. An army that moved so slowly could never bring swift victory, yet I insisted we maintain our order and discipline.

The Burden of Supply

The greatest weight upon us was not the muskets or the cannons but the endless needs of supply. Bread, meat, powder, tools—all had to be carried with us, for the wilderness offered little. Every wagon became precious, and every delay in securing them pushed our timetable further into the year. I often felt that we fought two wars: one against the French and one against the wilderness itself.

Tensions with the Colonials

The colonial soldiers and teamsters did not share my sense of urgency. Many resisted orders, worked slowly, or abandoned their tasks altogether. I punished harshly, for I believed discipline was the only cure for such reluctance. Yet I could see in their eyes resentment growing. They did not understand that without strict order, the expedition would collapse before it ever reached the enemy.

Reaching Fort Cumberland

At last, after weeks of struggle, we reached Fort Cumberland at the edge of the frontier. The men were weary, the wagons battered, and the supplies strained, but the army was assembled. From there, the true march into the wilderness would begin. I believed that the hardest part was behind us and that with the force now gathered, we could push forward and strike a decisive blow against the French. I did not yet know how much greater the trials ahead would be.

The Split of Forces: Main Column vs. Supply Train – Told by Thomas Gage

When we reached Fort Cumberland, the full weight of the expedition became clear. Thousands of men, long lines of wagons, herds of livestock, and heavy cannon all pressed against narrow paths that had never borne such burdens. The general knew we could not move forward as we were, for the march would be too slow and too exposed. A decision had to be made on how to manage such a cumbersome force.

The General’s Decision

General Braddock resolved to split the army. The main column would advance swiftly with the best soldiers, the lighter wagons, and what supplies could be carried directly. The rest—the larger part of the train with heavy baggage, extra provisions, and slower troops—would follow behind under separate guard. In his mind, this was the only way to maintain progress while preserving the strict order he valued. He was determined that our march would reflect the discipline of a European army, even in the wilderness.

My Role in Organization

I was tasked with assisting in arranging the columns. Every wagon had to be accounted for, every regiment given its place, and the guards assigned. It was a work of calculation, balancing speed with security. I knew the dangers of dividing forces in hostile country, but I also saw the truth of the general’s concern: if we moved as one body, we might never reach Fort Duquesne before winter closed in.

The Burden of Discipline

Braddock insisted that the men maintain ranks as if marching on open fields. Files were kept straight, baggage in order, and commands carried out with precision. Many of us younger officers questioned whether such formality suited the forests of America, but the general believed discipline would prevent confusion and protect the men. To him, the sight of a well-ordered column was as much a weapon as musket and cannon.

Doubts in the Ranks

Among the soldiers and colonial auxiliaries, there was murmuring. They feared the split would make us vulnerable, and they chafed under the strict order of the march. Yet the decision was made, and we pressed forward as two bodies: a swift-moving spearhead and a slower, burdened train behind. It was a compromise between speed and strength, and though it gave us progress, it also carried risks that would soon become clear.

Warnings from Native Allies – Told by Scarrooyady

From the beginning, I saw the danger in the way General Braddock moved his army. His soldiers marched in long lines, their coats bright against the dark forest, their drums echoing through the trees. To me, it was as if they carried torches into the night, announcing themselves to every enemy scout. I told him the wilderness could not be fought like the fields of Europe. Here, the trees themselves were the enemy’s shield, and only those who knew the land could guide him safely.

The Counsel of Adaptation

I urged the general to break his columns, to let his men move lightly through the woods as we did, spreading out, watching the shadows, and striking swiftly. I told him to use scouts at the front and the sides, to make the forest his ally rather than his foe. I warned that the French and their warriors would not fight in open order but would come upon us unseen, their fire falling from every side. But he would not bend to my counsel.

Braddock’s Dismissal

The general listened politely, yet his eyes were firm and closed to change. He trusted in discipline, in order, in the strength of soldiers standing shoulder to shoulder. To him, our ways seemed disorderly, unfit for the honor of European arms. He believed his cannons and regiments would sweep aside any resistance, and he would not humble himself to learn from those he saw as lesser. My words, though given with earnest warning, were cast aside.

The Frustration of the Few

Other warriors who might have joined us saw this and turned away. They said the British general was deaf to wisdom, that he would lead his men to ruin. I stayed, for I feared the balance of power would tip too far to the French if I left. Yet in my heart, I knew the march was blind. Every day I watched the men move deeper into danger, their order and pride a shield against advice but no shield against what awaited them.

The Coming Consequence

My warnings were not heeded, and so the army pressed on with drums and flags, as if the wilderness would yield to ceremony. I knew then that the forest itself would teach the lesson Braddock refused to learn. The French and their allies were waiting, and when they struck, the price of his deafness to our counsel would be paid in blood.

French Intelligence and Preparations – Told by Jean-Daniel Dumas

At Fort Duquesne, we knew long before Braddock’s army came close that he was on the move. The forest spoke to us through the eyes and ears of our Native allies. Scouts slipped through the trees unseen, watching the British march, counting their wagons, and listening to their campfires. Every movement of the redcoats was carried back to us, as swift and sure as if we walked among them ourselves.

The Role of Native Scouts

Our allies were the heart of our intelligence. They read the land as if it were a book, seeing signs no European could detect. A broken branch, a trampled patch of earth, a trail of smoke on the horizon—all revealed the path of Braddock’s army. They told us not only where he marched but how he marched, burdened by wagons, slow in the wilderness, and blind to the dangers that surrounded him.

The Council of Leaders

When this knowledge reached us, we gathered in council. French officers and Native chiefs sat together, speaking as one. We weighed the strength of Braddock’s regulars against the weakness of his methods. It was clear he carried more men and guns, but also clear that his rigid order was a weakness the forest itself would expose. We resolved that we must strike before he reached Fort Duquesne, for once he set his artillery before our walls, our small garrison could not withstand him.

Preparing the Ambush

We made ready for a different kind of battle than Europe taught. Rather than wait behind walls, we would meet him in the woods. Our Native allies chose the ground, a place where the path narrowed and the trees closed in. We prepared to fight as one force, French and Native together, using surprise and the forest as our greatest weapons. Every musket was loaded, every warrior primed for the moment when the enemy would walk into our grasp.

Confidence in the Plan

Though Braddock outnumbered us, I did not fear him. Numbers mean little when men cannot see the enemy or adapt to the land. With intelligence guiding us and the element of surprise in our favor, I knew the British would face not a battle they understood, but a storm of confusion and terror. In this wilderness, it was not the size of the army that mattered, but the ability to fight as the land demanded. That was our strength, and it would soon be proven.

Crossing the Monongahela River – Told by Edward Braddock

On the morning of July 9, 1755, I gave the order for the army to cross the Monongahela River. The sun was bright, the air heavy with heat, and the men marched with confidence. We had seen no sign of the enemy, and I believed the worst of the difficulties were behind us. The river lay before us, wide and steady, and I resolved to make the crossing in full order, as a demonstration of discipline and strength.

The Display of Order

The regiments moved with precision. Files marched straight into the shallows, drums beat the cadence, and flags flew proudly in the breeze. The horses pulled wagons through the water, and the artillery rolled forward with steady determination. It was a sight to stir the heart of any officer—an army of His Majesty’s soldiers moving as if on parade, even in the wilderness. I wished the enemy could see us then, for they would know the power of Britain’s arms.

Confidence in Victory

As I rode along the lines, I felt certain of success. The men were in high spirits, proud of their bearing and sure that nothing could withstand them. I shared that confidence, believing that once we reached Fort Duquesne, the French would fall quickly before such force. The crossing seemed to symbolize the inevitability of our victory—an unstoppable march across the rivers and forests of America.

Unseen Shadows

Yet even as we crossed, the trees stood silent, and the wilderness pressed close around us. I thought little of it then. To me, the enemy was far off, hiding in their fort, and our order would break their will when we arrived. I did not imagine they watched us from the woods, waiting for the moment to strike. To my eyes, the march was proof of discipline; to theirs, it was a display of blindness.

The Pride Before the Battle

When the last wagons rolled onto the far bank, I believed the day belonged to us. The men cheered, the lines reformed, and the army pressed forward into the forest with banners flying. My heart swelled with pride, for I thought we had shown that the wilderness itself could not shake the discipline of British troops. In truth, I mistook the calm for safety, and the orderliness of the crossing became the pride that walked us into disaster.

The Ambush on July 9, 1755 – Told by Jean-Daniel Dumas

When the British neared Fort Duquesne, we knew the time had come to strike. Captain Beaujeu led our force into the forest, guiding French regulars and Canadian militia alongside our Native allies. As the enemy approached the Monongahela, Beaujeu gave the signal to attack. Yet almost at once, he fell, struck down by a musket ball. For a moment, confusion swept through the men, but I stepped forward and took command. The battle could not falter at its first breath.

The First Shots

Our warriors fired from the woods, their muskets cracking like thunder. The British line staggered, uncertain where the shots came from. Smoke hung in the trees, war cries filled the air, and the enemy’s order began to break. I ordered the French to press harder, spreading wide to strike from both sides of the road. The forest became alive with fire, a storm closing in on men who could not see their attackers.

The Collapse of Order

Braddock’s troops tried to form ranks as they had been trained, but in the close woods their formations trapped them. Soldiers in the rear fired into the backs of their own men, mistaking shadows for enemies. Officers shouted themselves hoarse, yet their voices could not be heard over the chaos. I saw the red lines twist and break, their discipline dissolving with each passing moment. What had begun as a proud march now turned to panic and despair.

The Courage of the Warriors

Our Native allies fought with relentless skill. They slipped between the trees, fired with deadly aim, and vanished before the enemy could strike back. They knew the land and used it as their shield. Their cries cut through the noise of musket fire, striking terror into British hearts. Together we pressed the advantage, and what began as an ambush grew into a rout.

The Crushing Victory

By the end of the day, the British force lay shattered. Hundreds of their soldiers fell, their wagons and supplies abandoned, their cannons captured. The mighty army that had crossed the Monongahela in perfect order was broken in the very heart of the forest. I felt the weight of the victory, for it was not merely a battle won but a blow that shook British power in the Ohio Valley. Yet I also knew it would not end the war. It would only call forth more armies, and the struggle for this land would burn hotter than ever before.

Chaos in the British Ranks – Told by Thomas Gage

We had just crossed the Monongahela and were marching with full confidence when the first shots rang out. At first, many believed it a skirmish, nothing to trouble so great an army. But almost at once, the fire grew heavy, coming from the trees on both sides. Men began to fall, and the realization spread that we were surrounded. The order we had so carefully maintained shattered in an instant.

Confusion Among the Lines

Officers shouted commands, but the noise of muskets and the cries of the wounded drowned them out. Soldiers fired blindly into the trees, and some, in their panic, shot into their own ranks. I watched as neat files dissolved into clusters of frightened men, each unsure where the enemy stood. Drums tried to beat the call to order, yet the sound only added to the confusion.

The Weight of Fear

Fear spread faster than orders. Men who had marched proudly hours before now looked over their shoulders for escape. Some tried to stand firm, but when comrades fell on either side, courage gave way to panic. The more officers pressed discipline, the more resistance grew, for the soldiers no longer trusted that their training could save them in a battle fought from shadows.

The Collapse of Command

General Braddock rode among the lines, demanding they stand, and many officers exposed themselves bravely to rally the troops. Yet bravery could not mend what discipline alone had built. The army had never been taught to fight in such ground, and their rigid order became a trap. Each attempt to reform the lines only brought more confusion, until even the strongest among us knew the field was lost.

The Bitter Retreat

At last, the cry to retreat spread, not from command but from desperation. Men abandoned wagons, cannons, and supplies, fleeing across the river they had crossed so proudly that morning. I followed, torn between duty and survival, my heart heavy with shame. I had seen armies falter before, but never had I seen such chaos consume British soldiers so completely. The defeat at the Monongahela was not only a loss of men but a loss of the faith we placed in our own invincibility.

Braddock’s Wounding – Told by Edward Braddock

As the battle raged in the forest, I rode among the ranks, determined to restore order. My soldiers were trained to stand firm, to fire in volleys, to hold their ground. I believed that if I could only steady them, the tide would turn. I shouted commands, urged the officers forward, and called upon the men to remember their discipline. Even as the enemy’s fire tore through us, I held to the belief that courage and order could still win the day.

The Moment of Impact

Then came the shot that changed everything. I felt the strike like fire tearing through my body, sudden and sharp. The musket ball pierced my arm and lung, and the strength drained from me at once. For a moment I could not believe it. A general of His Majesty’s army, struck down not in a grand charge or in the breach of a fortress, but by a hidden enemy in the depths of the wilderness. The shock of it was greater than the pain.

The Fall from Command

As I fell from my horse, the cries of the men grew distant, though I could still see their faces twisted in fear. Officers gathered around me, struggling to keep me alive and to prevent panic from spreading further. Yet I knew, even as they lifted me, that my command was slipping away. An army cannot hold when its general is struck down, and I felt the weight of failure pressing upon me even before the battle had ended.

The Disbelief of Defeat

Lying on the ground, I listened to the chaos. Muskets fired wildly, war cries echoed through the trees, and the order I had fought so hard to maintain dissolved into confusion. I could not understand how it had come to this. We were Britain’s soldiers, the best in the world, yet here we were broken by an enemy smaller in number but stronger in cunning. I had believed discipline would triumph, but in that moment, disbelief was all that remained.

The Darkness Closing In

As the battle moved beyond my reach, I felt darkness pressing at the edges of my sight. I knew I was grievously wounded, and though I clung to life, I could not escape the truth. My fall was not just the fall of a man but the breaking of the army’s spirit. From the moment I was struck, the battle was lost, and with it, the hope of a swift victory in the Ohio Valley.

Native Perspectives on the Battle’s Outcome – Told by Scarrooyady

When word spread that General Braddock had fallen and his great army destroyed, many among the nations said it was the judgment of his own pride. He had been warned of the dangers, yet he ignored the counsel of those who knew the land. To the Native eye, his defeat was not only at the hands of the French and their allies but also by his refusal to bend. Pride had marched him into the forest, and pride had left him blind to the ways of war in this country.

The Strength of the French Alliance

For those who fought beside the French, the victory was proof of strength. They saw that the French listened, shared spoils, and fought in the manner of the forest. Such allies could be trusted more than the British, who looked down upon Native warriors and dismissed their knowledge. The triumph at the Monongahela drew many undecided nations closer to the French, for they believed the French respected their ways and fought alongside them as equals.

Doubts About the British

Those of us who had remained with Braddock were disheartened. We had urged him to fight differently, to trust the wisdom of Native scouts, but he had turned away from it. Now his army was broken, and his promises lay in the dust with his fallen soldiers. Among many nations, the defeat was taken as a sign that the British could not protect even themselves, much less their allies. Trust in their strength wavered, and the balance of alliances shifted.

The Consequences for the Nations

The outcome of the battle did not only wound the British; it also reshaped the choices of Native peoples. Some who had stood neutral now leaned toward France, while others chose to remain apart, believing no European power could be trusted. For us, the question was not which king would rule the Ohio, but which alliance would give our people the best chance to endure. The Battle of the Monongahela revealed much, not only about armies and generals, but about the arrogance that could blind men to survival.

The Path Ahead

From that day forward, I knew the struggle for the Ohio Valley would only deepen. The British would not accept defeat, and the French would press their advantage. Yet for the Native nations, the lesson of Braddock’s arrogance was clear: only those who respected the ways of the land and the people in it could hope to endure in this endless contest between empires.

French Celebration and Strategic Advantage – Told by Jean-Daniel Dumas

When the smoke cleared on that July day, we stood astonished at what had been achieved. With fewer men and fewer guns, we had destroyed one of the finest armies Britain had ever sent to America. The victory was swift, overwhelming, and complete. What had begun as an ambush became a triumph that carried our names far across the Atlantic. In the eyes of France, we had shown that courage, cunning, and alliance could topple even the proudest foe.

The Celebration at Fort Duquesne

At Fort Duquesne, the men rejoiced. Cheers rose from the soldiers, and our Native allies sang songs of triumph. The spoils of war lay before us—wagons, cannon, muskets, and supplies that would serve us in the days to come. More important than the captured goods was the honor we had won. News of the victory spread quickly, raising spirits in every French garrison and reminding the world that New France was not a land to be taken lightly.

The Strength of Alliances

The victory strengthened our bonds with our Native allies. They had fought bravely beside us, and together we shared the fruits of success. Many nations who had doubted now looked upon the French with renewed trust, believing that we were the stronger partner and more respectful of their ways. The British, by contrast, seemed clumsy and arrogant, unable to protect even their own. In the contest for hearts and alliances, the Monongahela gave us a powerful advantage.

The Control of the Ohio Valley

With Braddock’s army shattered, the British had no force left to threaten Fort Duquesne. The Ohio Valley remained firmly in our hands, its rivers flowing securely through French territory. Our hold on the region meant not only trade and influence but also the vital connection between Canada and Louisiana. For the moment, the dream of a French empire stretching through the heart of the continent seemed secure.

The Promise and the Future

Yet even in the glow of victory, I knew Britain would not forget this humiliation. Their pride would demand revenge, and they had the resources to send more armies across the ocean. For now, though, we celebrated. We had struck a mighty blow, lifted the spirits of New France, and secured the Ohio Valley. The triumph at the Monongahela was not only a battle won—it was a promise that France would fight with determination to keep its place in the New World.

The Death of Braddock – Told by Edward Braddock

After the battle, I was carried from the field, my body broken by musket fire. The pain was sharp, but the heavier burden was knowing my army lay in ruins. I had believed discipline and order would bring victory, yet the wilderness had swallowed my plans and turned them to ash. As we retreated, each mile was marked not by triumph but by the weight of failure pressing upon me.

The Slow Declin

Day by day, my strength ebbed away. The wound in my lung burned with every breath, and though the surgeons did what they could, I knew my end was near. Around me, officers whispered of the disaster, and I heard the despair in their voices. I longed to rise and lead once more, but I could not. My command had already passed into other hands, and I was left only with my thoughts.

Reflections on Duty

In those final hours, I asked myself where I had erred. Was it pride that blinded me to the counsel of the Native allies? Was it my insistence on European order in a land that demanded another way of war? I had served the crown faithfully all my life, yet here in the wilds of America, I had failed. Still, I held to the belief that I had done my duty as I understood it, with loyalty to my king and honor to my command.

The Burial

On July 13, 1755, my body gave way at last. I was buried along the road the men had cut through the wilderness, my grave hidden beneath the very path of retreat so the enemy could not disturb it. There was no grand ceremony, no parade, only the hurried work of soldiers who knew they must press on. My resting place was as unmarked as the forest around it, my name left to memory rather than stone.

My Final Thoughts

I died with sorrow for the men who had fallen and for the defeat that stained our arms. Yet I also died with the knowledge that I had given all I could in service to my duty. History would judge me harshly, I knew, but I could not change the course of what had been. My story ended not in triumph but in failure, a reminder that even the mightiest army can fall when pride blinds its commander to the truths of the land he seeks to conquer.