Soldat-X: American Origins - Zeit Realms

By Alexander Von Net

Two soldiers, from two different periods in world history, live in the present. One is heroic, decent, and somewhat religious. The other is anger-filled, vicious, despotic, and evil.

John Barnsmith was an African American soldier officially listed as missing in action during the Vietnam conflict. Unknown to all, John is accidently awakened from his state of suspended animation, placed there by a mysterious syndicate. Waking on a deserted tropical island, hes rescued and realizes its no longer 1969. He tries to adjust to the modern world in Las Vegas, but struggles. Hes soon summoned for a new mission, boldly risking everything on an adventure into the dangers of time and space.

Baron Dietrech Von Tor was a myth in history. His actions were so terrorizing many historians thought of him as a fantasy figure. Originating from the Prussian line of aristocratic officers, the Baron stormed onto the New World as a leader of mercenaries, called in when the situation mandated an iron fist. After a battle against his enemies of Boston, the Barons life, death, and unholy resurrection by a sinister cult drastically altered his path. Now he walks among everyday people in the modern world after a long and secret hibernation, working with terrorists who harbor plans of devastation.

The two men, both possessing the same power and martial arts skills, emerge in the present to engage in a duel over humanitys fate.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Jun 23, 2016
• ISBN: 9781480830615

Alexander Von Net

Alexander Von Net spent five years in the Marines and ten years serving in the National Guard both as an infantryman and as a military police officer with the security forces. He was an American football and martial arts athlete. Von Net lives in Boston, Massachusetts.

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Copyright © 2016 Alexander Von Net.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Archway Publishing

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

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ISBN: 978-1-4808-3060-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4808-3061-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016908454

Archway Publishing rev. date: 06/16/2016

Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Soldat-X: Zeit Realms

Alexander VON net

Episode 2

Preface

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Chapter 71

Chapter 72

Chapter 73

Chapter 74

Chapter 75

About the Author

Introduction

For years, science fiction and fantasy fans have enjoyed works that dealt with the possibility of other universes but with little to no scientific credibility. Indeed, some scientists argue that talk about parallel dimensions or other universes is not the domain of physical science but of philosophy and religion.

Beginning in the twenty-first century, some mainstream scientists have openly considered the possibility of other dimensions; they have taken the position that the ideas of other dimensions and alternate universes could be scientifically explored.

Physicists, cosmologists, and astronomers have relied on the results of experiments carried out at facilities such as the Large Hadron Collider at the European Organization for Nuclear Research (CERN) in Geneva, Switzerland, concerning super gravity, quantum gravity, and the mysteriously elusive Higgs boson particle with the help of advanced computers to analyze the data.

The Large Hadron Collider has conducted experiments on the tiniest scale measurable such as with a proton. Through the use of powerful electron magnets, scientists collide particles into each other at speeds close to that of light to try to break them into even smaller pieces. It’s as if they had crashed two watches into each other to see what parts remained. What they have recorded over the years has helped them understand the mechanics behind the most advanced subjects in our quantifiable universe.

Though the multiverse or parallel dimensional is a theory, there is evidence that there is something larger than our quantifiable universe—possibly other dimensions or different universes.

The idea that other beings have visited Earth has been a staple of science fiction for years. Films and books have imagined aliens or creatures from another dimension and have relied on science to help them establish a veneer of credibility. The evidence we have today cannot confirm the existence of other dimensions or universes, but there still exists the possibility of extraterrestrial visitors coming to Earth.

Popular science fiction stories and even conspiracy theories have imagined that certain historical events were caused or guided by secret hidden men with agendas that have affected people’s lives. There are plenty of theories of secret orders and cults, powerful military and political organizations, and small groups of bizarre but remarkably influential individuals living clandestinely all over the world. Scientists and scholars and a good number of laypeople hold such conspiracy theories in contempt, but some people believe in secret, powerful actors behind the scenes who continue to affect the lives of everyday people profoundly.

Some of these effects may be positive—benefits to people’s physical health or political freedom—while others may be sinister—theft of money, loss of rights and liberties, and even battles or large-scale wars that affect hundreds of thousands, even millions.

Are there indeed secret hidden and powerful forces behind the deeds and actions of men, specifically commanders of militaries in the past and present? Could this continue to happen? Who are they? What is their agenda? What actions are they capable of? What capabilities do they have? And most important, what are their origins?

The possibility that powerful and secretive beings with unknown and mysterious origins might be explained by the experiences people have had of finding themselves caught up in one of the most bizarre and spectacular adventures of all time.

A gripping series of adventures where time and space itself, the very arena where gladiators, soldiers of fortune, brutal despots with sinister agendas, and warriors from all walks of life gather to clash. The outcome of such a cataclysmic interaction could cost them their souls.

Chapter 1

China. 48 BC.

For centuries, rival warring factions struggled for control over the numerous ancient provinces of what is now China. Legend has it that after the reign of the wise and benevolent mystical three sovereigns during the early years of the Xia Dynasty, five divine kings had ruled. A king by the name of Zhuanxu, believed to be a descendent of the yellow emperor, reigned supreme over the kingdom for more than fifty years.

Zhuanxu’s stable, peaceful reign came to a treacherous end when a strange and mysterious advisor, which some called a demon or a shaman, ruthlessly betrayed his master and took power. It was widely believed through most of what is now China that this royal advisor had the power to communicate with the spirits and even travel effortlessly between this world and heaven and the dark realm of what the ancient Chinese called diyu. How or why this mystic priest had these powers, was never understood, not even by the wise King Zhuanxu. Some ancient Chinese speculated that he was half-human and half-divine.

The legends of his realm say he had the energy of the black dragon in his heart, and upon his command, he could summon the power of lightning. His physical skills in the most ancient of martial arts were second to none, as was his skill with the weapon he had forged from metal mined from the fires of diyu itself—the bladed fan, better known in China as a tie shan.

This new ruler stripped his province of all its natural resources, including copper, iron, bronze, and most important, gold and uranium. He raided and pillaged endless neighboring provinces and enslaved millions.

He expanded his army a hundredfold and injected members of his elite guard with a chi serum to boost their physical strength, speed, and life span. Some of the subjects did indeed turn some into advanced soldiers, while others turned into mutilated, deformed creatures whose bodies perished when they received the wrong dose of the serum. The burden, suffering, and cruelty of this sorcerer king took a toll on the people of ancient China.

But with some hidden groups deep in the woods and high above the uncharted hills was the bastard son of Zhuanxu, a peasant by the name of Ku. Ku had escaped the sorcerer’s dark army and had found refuge among those who had chosen to hide from the expanding reach of the regime. From their hidden location, Ku was able to gather an increasing number of peasants, priests, merchants, farmers, and noblemen to form a guerilla army. This new force of brave souls was preparing to launch that would inspire the population living in subjugation.

After Ku led his forces to a number of victories over the sorcerer’s troops, the insurrection inside the Xia kingdom began. The word of Ku and his men’s bravery spread throughout China, and one by one, the evil wizard’s troops were conquered.

Ku and his comrades even stormed the royal castle; legend has it that the wizard took the secrets of his black magic with him by summoning up the demonic power and taking a mighty chariot to escape to the realm of diyu. Ku could not reach the sorcerer in time, but from that time on, the ancient Chinese gave the sorcerer a name because of all his sinister deeds. That name was Zadan, which meant the demonic wizard or better known to most of the Chinese people, the mythical Zadan the Mandarin.

Ku learned from a wise monk whom Zadan had imprisoned in his court that Zhuanxu was his true father. This allowed the Xia court to officially crown him emperor, with the added blessing of all his newly liberated people. Ku’s reign was successful and happy, but an important tradition had been handed down to all those selected for secret combat knowledge: the bare-handed and weapon skills needed to take on Zadan the Mandarin in case of his return from diyu to forcibly reclaim his throne.

This tradition had been carried on through a secret and select sect in the community of shaolin priests over three thousand years after Ku’s death. This priesthood, outside the mainstream shaolin monastery and traditions, had spread only to deserving and worthy students around China and other parts of Asia, including modern Vietnam, North Korea, South Korea, Laos, Okinawa, Tibet, and Japan.

In AD 495, centuries after the Chinese gloriously defeated Zadan and his forces and routed him from China, the descendants of Ku, with the help of a mystical Indian Buddhist monk by the name of Buddharama, founded the first shaolin temple in Henan Province.

The shaolin priest had himself been susceptible to cruel military raids by barbarian forces, including the Mongol predecessors of Genghis Khan. Believing that the Mongol warlords would try to fulfill Zadan’s prophecy of the Mandarin’s return, the shaolin developed an effective self-defense martial art known today as kung fu. The art’s practice had served to protect the monastery and the local villagers against raiders and other hostile forces, but in a special and more secret branch of the monastery, the art had been intended as practice for future combat against Zadan.

It was believed that the shaolin had to take a holy vow to spread the enlightened faith of Buddhism and to continue the line of the various styles of kung fu. They taught the art for future generations to become physically fit and ready for combat should Zadan return to Earth.

During the 1940s, the shaolin temple was closed by the Chinese government only to open again with a new class of shaolin priests and athletes in the late 1990s due to popular national demand and the multitude of successful Hong Kong and American films about kung fu.

The original shaolin descendants had immigrated to the United States for freedom of religion and to better practice and develop their martial-arts skills. Though most modern Chinese consider the notion of Zadan’s existence laughable and insulting to their intellects, others, including the shaolin monks who moved to the United States, still take the prophecy of Zadan the Mandarin’s return very seriously. The members of the secret, distinguished order that stemmed from the shaolin practitioners had known that the Mandarin’s return to Earth was a threat to China as well as the United States, indeed, the planet.

One such practitioner was a Chinese-American immigrant, former American soldier, and top nuclear scientist who worked in Los Alamos for the Department of Energy by day while practicing kung fu at night. The man’s name was Dr. Lo Tam Wang.

Dr. Wang believed in the ancient prophecy regarding the Mandarin and his desire to conquer Earth, plunder its resources, and act as a god king over humanity and rule as he pleased.

Dr. Wang knew also about the legend of Zadan’s elite royal guard, men who were once mortal but then biologically altered to serve as super soldiers who were stronger, better trained, and more skilled than the average person. Those in the elite guard could live for a very long time; they aged much slower than mere mortals. There was no doubt in the doctor’s mind that if Zadan reclaimed his power, he would somehow need to create another elite guard to put his schemes into effect. But how would he do so? And how would he carry out his mission?

Developing energy and conservation technology was one thing, but convincing the United States government of an ancient conspiracy involving a mythical Chinese figure was something else. For the time, Dr. Wang believed he needed to remain quiet but ever suspicious and mindful of the possibility that Earth might be threatened.

Chapter 2

Boston. June 1775.

It had been a hot, humid, and blistering June day. Earlier that year, the English garrison holed up in Boston had been surrounded by the local militia. General Thomas Gage, the British commander of Boston, had been eager to commence his summer offensive against the rebellious militia who surrounded the city. The best location to land his troops was the nearby port of Charlestown.

Gage had started preparations for a stronger and bigger offensive against the rebel forces around Charlestown. He planned in conjunction with his newly arrived staff from London. He supported the notion of an amphibious assault to take control of Dorchester Heights followed by an assault on the colonial military camp in Charlestown, which meant attacking Breed’s Hill. That would be followed by another assault.

Gates had wanted to control the rebelling colonists headquarters in Cambridge if his assault on Breed’s Hill succeeded. But from historically unknown espionage sources, the colonial militia had been warned of his plans.

Colonel Prescott, commander of the soldiers defending Breed’s Hill and the architect of the reinforced encampment, had seized the initiative. The colonel knew his forces were outnumbered and outgunned, thus his strong defense. His only advantage was holding higher ground that would present difficulties for the British soldiers and their Hessian allies. The upcoming battle would be a fight much more brutal and deadly then the previous skirmish the minutemen had had with the English garrison in Concord.

Gage wondered if he could break the colonial stronghold easily. How many men would he have to sacrifice? Did he really have control over the conduct of some of his men in terms of how they treated the colonists? Even more pressing had been his concern for the manner and conduct of his Hessian mercenaries. They were fierce and powerful; their commander had performed in a legendary manner on numerous European battlefields and in the Middle East. But Gage wondered if they could quash a rebellion. Could they use for and fear to bring the colonists to reason, or would they resort to cruel and criminal acts?

The situation was odious but pressing; the general had no choice. He needed the Hessians because the colonial forces were defiant.

The Farm.

Private Silas Raines had been working on his farm when a horseman came trotting down the dirty road to his cottage. James McCotten had been riding for quite some time to warn Mr. Raines of nearby danger. Silas! Former member of the Concord Long Rifles! I warn thee that the English garrison has been reinforced at Boston Harbor. A day and half ago, I tell you!

McCotton? I haven’t seen you in four months. Whatever do you mean?

The corporal dismounted. Raines, listen to me. The British garrison has brought with them a large regiment of the most brutal Hessian troops. Scouts know of Colonel Prescott’s brigade, and they’re looking specifically for you! There are men riding toward your cottage now! But we have some good news. General Washington has arrived with his men from Virginia. He’s been assigned to command the men who will confront this newly arrived regiment. He has been dispatched by the Continental Congress from Philadelphia.

Private Raines was shocked. My God!

Silas’s wife, Lilith, came from the cottage and demanded to know what was happening.

Lilith, my musket and my powder pouch. Then get inside and lock the doors!

They saw men on horseback less than a mile down the trail. The noise they made echoed through the forest. My God! It’s them! Hurry, Lilith!

Eight redcoats galloped down the road with swords drawn. The horses were breathing heavily and flinging mud from their hooves. Lilith handed Silas his musket. Corporal McCotton, who was wearing a maroon jacket, grasped his long rifle and hid behind the rock fence.

McCotton took steady aim at the charging dragoons. A voice was heard from the distance. Private Silas Raines! By order of King George the Third and by legal decree of the Massachusetts Bay Colony, you have been charged and found guilty of treason and acts of insurrection in absentia! Will you surrender peacefully?

Silas was in shock. He didn’t know why the British had targeted him or that their ships had arrived with reinforcements.

We order you to surrender!

Silas knew he would never get a fair trial; he realized he was as good as dead whether he surrendered or resisted. And surrender was not an option.

One rider noticed McCotten with his weapon aimed at them. Look! A militia member behind those rocks! He has a weapon!

Their commander, Major Levon Strauss, spotted McCotton. Take aim and fire!

Two soldiers drew their pistols and shot at McCotton. A musket ball smashed into the rock closest to McCotton’s head while the other went astray.

In a fury, Silas loaded powder into his rifle’s pan and a ball into the barrel with his ramrod. He cocked the hammer, aimed, and shot at one of the riders. Major Strauss was furious. We have another armed man! Shoot him too!

McCotton cocked his hammer and took aim. No man shall be sentenced and taken away without a fair trial in this colony! The tyranny of the crown will not reign supreme forever over Massachusetts, this I vow! He squeezed the trigger. The round grazed Major Strauss’s jacket.

One rider charged the corporal, taking aim with his musket. By that time, Silas had reloaded. He fired. He killed the trooper.

Lilith ran up with a pouch of ammunition and another rifle. She gave her husband the ammunition, loaded her rifle, and fired.

He’s using the woman as a soldier! Take heed and charge, men! Get them all! screamed the officer.

Silas took aim at one soldier who was charging McCotton, but before he could shoot, a ball fired by one of two British soldiers who had flanked his house hit him. Silas struck the nearest with the butt of his rifle and shot another soldier in the neck.

Lilith screamed when a soldier grabbed her. She stomped on his foot, squirmed around, and kneed him in his testicles. The man fell back in pain, allowing Lilith to get away. But she ran into another soldier who grabbed her arm and the top of her dress. Lilith struggled, trying to push him away, but he ripped her dress, exposing her breast. She continued to fight until another soldier kicked her leg. She fell.

Silas tried to reload his weapon, but a soldier on a horse knocked him off his feet. Other soldiers grabbed him, and in the struggle, his tunic was torn.

Major Strauss raised his cocked pistol at Silas’s head. One more move and I pull the trigger, Raines!

McCotton leveled his gun at the major. Look out! Lilith screamed to him. Before he could fire, a soldier stabbed him in his back with a sabre. He fell to his knees and bled to death.

Major Strauss laughed as he watched McCotton die. He dismounted and walked to Silas, still aiming his pistol. Though Silas was wounded in his shoulder and neck, he stood firm, not showing any fear. He glared at the major.

No! Lilith screamed and charged at the major, but soldiers held her back.

The major pointed his weapon directly at Silas’s head. The depths of depravity you rebels will go to, turning women into soldiers! He addressed his troops. Have any of you ever seen such a ridiculous and absurd display? Why look, gentlemen. We have a soldier who is wearing a dress for a uniform and has a pair of tits!

Women can fight alongside men to defend their homes, major! Silas said.

Pretty girl, the major said with a sneer, but such savagery making her a combatant. Hold her back! The major turned to Silas. For acts of treason, aggression against his majesty’s soldiers, and indecent corruption of women, I by the powers invested in me sentence you, Silas Raines, to death!

Silas knew it was his last moment. God and country! No more government tyranny! Liberty and justice for all men!

Lilith screamed in horror as the major shot Silas in the head. She rushed to her murdered husband, crying and screaming. She wrapped her arms around his bloodstained body. Why?

The major said, I do regret taking such actions, dear lady, but justice demands nothing less.

Soldiers pulled Lilith away from Silas’s corpse. A soldier asked, What do we do with her, sir?

She is only a woman. Do with her what you please, but then let her go. Do not kill her under any circumstances. We do not purposely kill women, even those who take up arms against their beloved crown. There is no need to hold her captive for too long. Pile Raines’s and McCotton’s bodies in that cart and take their remains to Boston for the baron to see. I know he will be pleased with our work today. The major looked at the farmhouse. Burn this home to the ground.

The men lit a torch and tossed it into the farmhouse. As the major rode away with his lieutenants, the soldiers hitched Silas’s horses to the cart into which they piled the bodies of the colonists. They marched Lilith into the woods and beat her close to death.

They released her, but she was barely alive. Two pheasant hunters stumbled upon her by accident and saw to her wounds. The hunters were horrified and disgusted by what had occurred—her beating and the killing of Raines and McCotton. They vowed to sound the call for revenge among the ranks of the minutemen.

Boston.

The cart bearing the bodies of Raines and McCotton came down the cobblestone streets of Boston in full view of all the townspeople. All hear! These are the remains of the criminal rebels Corporal James McCotton and Private Silas Raines! Those who act in rebellion and engage in criminality against his majesty will suffer the same fate! Let this be a warning to all who sympathize with the rabble-rousers, Major Strauss announced to the crowd as he proudly rode toward the statehouse building. The sight of the slain in the cart struck terror into the hearts of the populace; they dreaded the consequences of questioning the authority of the crown.

My God, embrace their noble souls, one woman whispered to her husband as the cart passed them.

When Major Strauss reached the statehouse, a private helped him off his horse. Welcome back, Major. The baron has been expecting you. General Gage is on post now.

The major returned the private’s salute. Very good. I shall report to them both immediately.

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One month earlier, Gage had made an emergency request to London for more reinforcements—men, supplies, food, and weapons. In response to the general’s pleas, the king offered army commanders, including General William Howe, and his fearsome and dark Prussian commander Baron Dietrich von Torr and his fearsome battalion of hard-fighting and experienced Hessians.

In the British-occupied Massachusetts colonial house, General Gage plotted his military strategy with Howe and the baron. General Henry Clinton had also attended the meeting and reacted with earnest approval to General Gage’s offensive plan.

Gage and his secretaries had surveyed Charlestown Heights under cover and knew the best places to attack its defenders. Gage believed that a combination of militiamen and a battalion of regular colonial soldiers were heavily concentrated in and around the village of Cambridge, across the Charles River from Boston. The best place to send an advanced battalion was to Charleston Heights, and the imperial regiment of the 47th Brigade with the First Royal Marine Division was poised to take the offensive at the harbor landing ports. Baron von Torr advised that he and his men, the Ansbach Jäger Company from the Hessian region of what is modern Germany, would join the British ranks and spearhead the attack on Charlestown. General Gage concurred; he thought the defenders would be intimidated by the fierceness and brutality of the Hessians.

Soldiers, horses, weapons, and supplies were gathered and were prepared to strike that hot, sunny, June afternoon. The baron spoke. Now, gentlemen, is the time to strike fear through swift action against these traitors, traitors of the worst kind, we face on Breed’s Hill! I will see to it personally that the leaders of these fighters are held responsible for this act of defiance.

General Gage and Henry Clinton raised their wine glasses in salute of the dark, sinister man who stood six feet tall and wore a dark-green coat with bright-yellow sleeves and trimmings. Torr’s face was as pale as a ghost’s; his black pupils were as dark as his cruel heart. Baron von Torr was a dark lord who carried a sword with a handle of black steel and spiraling leather; its curved guard alone was twelve inches wide. His sheath was made of iron, steel, burlap, and leather adorned with grotesque artwork in the form of dragons and bats. At the business end of his razor-sharp sword was a pointed tip; the sword’s handle sported a carving of an attacking tiger with fangs exposed.

General Howe wanted a swift British victory but did not see any need to extract a harsh, torturous revenge against the colonial militia leaders as Torr so ravenously desired. General Gage, on the other hand, was humiliated that the militia had successfully fought off his men in Concord in April and that his forces had to go on the defensive in Boston instead of occupying Cambridge and nearby settlements. In his mind, Torr’s ferocity was a sign of providence. His and Torr’s combined forces could possibly quash the whole rebellion.

General Gage remembered the baron’s victories against the French during the Seven Years’ War, when he was a young lieutenant colonel of the royal dragoons who sided with Torr’s king, Fredrick the Second of Prussia. The baron was the man he needed to defeat the militia and the regular colonial soldiers. General Gage looked up from the map; Gentlemen, let our offensive begin at once.

Torr looked out the balcony window to the cobblestone street. Earlier, Torr’s men had successfully rounded up local patriot sympathizers, one of whom was seventy-year-old Thomson Menina. Menina was the personal assistant of the rabble-rousing businessman and complete scoundrel in the eyes of the general and the baron—John Hancock.

Menina, half British and half Portuguese, had been in need of a job after his mercantile career had ended unsuccessfully when the English closed his shipping business. John Hancock needed Menina’s skills at accounting and trustworthiness. Menina and seven other men had been forcibly lined up along a brick wall in view of a crowd of Bostonians.

A lovely, fiery, young, dark-haired woman shouted, Leave them be! They are fine, decent men of our colony! A man yelled, Is this the king’s idea of justice or the Hessians’? Let these men go! An officer standing behind the firing squad was irritated and disgusted with what he perceived to be agitators in the crowd.

The commander noticed the attractive brunette and was infuriated. Seize them! Soldiers pushed the crowd back at the point of their rifles, but the woman and man still protested vocally.

The commander drew his pistol. Perhaps these wretched ruffians need to be taught a lesson in respecting royal authority. He pointed his gun at the man, who stood still in abject fear. The officer smirked. No. I have a more interesting solution. An example must be made. Protesting the will of royal authority will not be tolerated! The commander pistol-whipped him across the face, causing the man to fall. The blow fractured his jaw and drew blood. The woman yelled, Your red-coated brutes will not be the law forever in this colony!

The commander grasped the woman’s arm and pulled her from the man on the street; the soldiers pushed the crowd back. If any of us wanted to hear the ranting of this whining wench, we would have given her an audience! But in a colony, wenches keep their mouths shut!

The woman yelled in agony as the commander manhandled her, almost breaking her arm. Damn you!

That amused the commander. You just don’t seem to understand. It must be your pretty face that fuels your fire, hey, boys? Soldiers chuckled. She has a defiant will and quite a mouth. Maybe she has other strong attributes too? Let’s have a look!

The commander grabbed her hair and yanked her head back. He holstered his pistol and ripped her blouse, exposing her breasts. She resisted and screamed, but the commander jokingly commented as he paraded her around, It seems quite clear from the looks of things, a woman with breasts like these can find a much more lucrative job than that of a pestering wench! Maybe she can make a fine career as a Boston street tart, wouldn’t you say, gentlemen? The troops gave out hearty laughs.

Torr, who had witnessed all, grinned sardonically. He had been eager to make an example of Menina and the others rounded up.

My dear baron, do you believe I should order the men to refrain from overreacting to this crowd? Gage asked Torr.

Nonsense, General! Who cares how many ungrateful locals they batter or how many pretty street wenches they rough up? Besides, these same men performed magnificently earlier today. They tracked down and killed that bastard from the Concord Militia, McCotton. I think you should compliment them on this superb police action.

Gage was not amused by the display; public executions disturbed him. He was disgusted to see the young woman assaulted in such a way and to have seen the man struck by the butt of the pistol. The general would have preferred a quick military tribunal and sentences of hard labor for life, but the commanding officer of the British forces understood Torr’s point of view regarding the ends justifying the means. What did it matter in the long run if the dark baron made an example out of the rabble-rousing Bostonians? His troops and tactics were second to none. If anyone could bring order over the crowds and a decisive victory over the rebel troops, it was Torr.

A twenty-year-old, blond-haired man dressed in a grey jacket, tri-cornered hat, and a white shirt was with a boy of about ten in the crowd. They were able to pass one of the soldiers who was busy pushing back the crowd. The young man and the lad rushed to the aid of the wounded man. They looked at the woman struggling with the officer but knew they couldn’t help her. They helped raise the man to his feet and whispered, There are other ways to fight for justice. Come with us. We need to get out of the city.

They escorted him from the hostile activity. As the three were rushing away, trying to hide from the British marching the streets, the wounded man asked the heroic Samaritan who he was. My name is Captain Richard Parker, and this is my kid cousin David. We have a resistance garrison of colonial regulars and Concord militia. Our commander, Colonel Prescott, is waiting for us; he wants to know how many troops will storm our encampment. Hurry! We don’t have much time.

The boy lagged behind a bit among the pedestrians and wagons. David, catch up! Let’s go! Captain Parker barked at his young cousin.

Do you think the baron’s men will rape that pretty maid? David asked. Why, I bet old Dr. Franklin himself had bedded that maid the last time his stagecoach came here. There is no way those men will let a woman that lovely go.

I don’t know what they will do to her, Parker said. Let us pray they don’t. But I do know they will make an example out of poor old Thomson Menina and those other unfortunate men.

Did you see the baron on the balcony? David asked. I saw him! He is for real! It’s the Hessian baron! They say he is the grandson of the Devil himself! The rumors are he cannot be killed, and any man who opposes him is doomed. They say he drinks the blood of naked virgin girls and impales infants for fun!

David, that’s enough nonsense talk! You have been made a private now, so start acting like an adult. That’s an order! Help me get him to the carriage down the street.

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The commander grew tired of the young woman and pushed her into the crowd. Off with you, wench! I have better things to do; I must carry out his majesty’s justice. The crowd had been successfully contained. The commander raised his hand to call the firing squad to attention. The drummers made a deafening racket. They changed their beat and rhythm to signal the execution squad to make ready.

The baron drew his menacing sword that appeared as if it had been forged in the fires of hell. He raised it and shouted, These proven traitors have been caught and will face justice. They have dared challenge the authority of his majesty, General Gage, and me! Let these foolish and pathetic traitors suffer their fate! Let any man in the Massachusetts Bay Colony who dares side with the minutemen or the likes of John Hancock pay the price with his life! Your souls shall be delivered to the hellish clutches of Satan for acts of treason and defiance!

Torr ordered a dramatic command down toward his soldiers below him, Men, ready, aim … The sky turned from grey to black. Rain poured down on the crowd. The soldiers chanted Death to men who committeth treason! God save the king!

Fire! The baron lowered his sword dramatically the victims screamed in terror as the soldiers fired. The musket balls slammed into their targets, the poor and helpless patriotic men who had dared take a stand to protect their city and homes from the brutal tyranny of the baron and his English allies.

The executed fell to the street. Rain had washed their blood away. The soldiers snapped to attention and did an about-face. They raised their rifles in a salute to Torr, who stood proudly on the balcony.

A block away, twenty redcoats were marching a man convicted of aiding and abetting the rebels. Mud and blood stained the beleaguered prisoner’s face and clothing. A young, headstrong British lieutenant by the name of Barnett who was nearby became curious about the soldiers’ prisoner, who was in shackles. What the Devil is this? Prisoner transports are not to be implemented for another two days.

One of the two soldiers accompanying the lieutenant said, They are marching the prisoner to the whipping post, sir.

Whipping was a cruel but effective tactic practiced during times of social unrest. Regardless, the young lieutenant thought the notion of beating a man that intensely, especially in public, would be counterproductive to the political aims of what the governor and his imperial garrison had in mind—to restore order in the New World.

The barefooted prisoner’s metal shackles were tied to the thick wooden log, the whipping post. Strip him of his clothes! the sergeant commanded.

The soldiers ripped the condemned man’s garments off until he stood naked. The sergeant yanked his head back. For the crimes of aiding and supplying known domestic enemies of his graciously benign royal majesty, you have been sentenced to twenty lashes

The sergeant uncoiled his whip and raised it. The lashing began. Ahhh! My God! the victim screamed as torn flesh and blood mingled on his back.

The sergeant paused at the fifteenth lash. He whispered to the man, Consider yourself lucky they even gave you this sentence of mercy, you treasonous rat.

The sergeant addressed the soldiers. This traitor is feeling the benign mercy of his majesty! I heard our newly arrived Prussian baron offers no such graciousness! Ha!

The sergeant raised his whip and struck the man the sixteenth time. Ah! The man’s bloodcurdling scream could be heard up and down the streets.

Lieutenant Barnett rushed to the sergeant and caught his wrist. All right! He has had enough. His majesty’s mercy is indeed benevolent and just. Consider this sentence carried out. Unchain him.

Stunned, the sergeant asked, Why, Lieutenant? Major Strauss ordered twenty lashes!

His majesty’s justice has been delivered, Sergeant. That is a direct order. It shalt be carried out! Unchain him and march your soldiers back to camp.

The sergeant dropped his whip and stood at attention. He rendered the lieutenant a salute. Yes sir, it shall be done. He turned to the soldiers. Release this prisoner!

Lieutenant Barnett looked at the victim. Corporal Stanley, fetch this idiot colonist a doctor. Hurry! He spoke directly to the whipped man. I hope your participation in this petty and foolish rebellion was worth it.

Having fallen to the ground in absolute pain, the man raised his head. Why did you spare me the last of the lashes, Lieutenant? For that I am grateful to you.

Barnett was furious as he gazed on the blood the man had shed. This is not English justice for the crime of being a damned fool. Death for real treason, yes absolutely, whipping for a vicious crime such as high theft I can accept, but you, young man, are guilty only of being an idiot and petty scoundrel. What is your name, man?

The man answered with as much dignity as he could muster, My name is William, sir, William Dawes.

Dawes you say? The man who alerted the minutemen of our regiment? No wonder they wanted to make you suffer. Consider yourself a tried and punished former felon, Mr. Dawes. I advise you after the doctor finishes treating your wounds to get out of the town and out of my sight as soon as possible. And get some damned clothes too. No one will want to see your awful scars.

William Dawes, still in a tremendous amount of pain, stood shakily. Yes, Lieutenant. I thank you again for your mercy.

One of the lieutenant’s subordinates said, Sir, our men have just arrested the lawyer from Quincy Village, the one who represents the colony in Philadelphia. If the baron’s men get hold of him, they will do the same if not shoot him!

The lieutenant reacted. My God! We need to move quickly. I don’t want any more of these misguided and foolish colonists harmed or murdered. I might not be able to prevent another bloody fight against these minutemen zealots, but I certainly will not make things easier for any of the angry war hawks among our own ranks either. That damned baron, or General Gates might get hold of the lawyer anyway, but let’s at least stall them a bit. Have our men bring him to me at once at camp, far from the baron’s sadistic mercenaries and any sycophantic worm trying to appease Gates. Go, man! Hurry.

Chapter 3

Charleston. June 1775.

In Charleston, Thomas Diamond, a teenager, was riding up a dirt trail hill past homesteads and through the woods. He noticed a black and emerald-green carriage approaching. Diamond approached the coach and yelled, Halt! The door opened. Out stepped Captain Parker, assuring the teen everything was okay. Proceed, Captain.

The carriage rode past the guard checkpoint and up the fortified hill to the base. Young David ran to grab a weapon and man one of the guard posts while Parker and his injured guest walked into the command tent to report to his commander. He saluted. Sir, Captain Parker reporting for duty. I was just on the scene near the statehouse; they were preparing to execute Mr. Menina and other members of the Sons of Liberty. I rescued this man after he was struck by an English officer.

Colonel Prescott snapped to attention and returned the salute. He looked at the injured man. What is your name?

My name is Cranston Swan. I am also a member of the Sons of Liberty, but the British officials never took notice of my membership or me. They seemed to be after specific individuals.

Yes indeed. It seems they issued arrest warrants for certain men, the colonel said. I have just received word our comrades Private Silas Raines and Corporal James McCotton were killed. They must have resisted the soldiers who tried to arrest them. From the report I heard, the British commander shot Silas Raines. That is the mentality of the types we are forced to deal with.

There is something else, sir, Captain Parker said. There was a strange and horrendous-looking man with General Gage today. A foul and wretched creature, his face was pale like a ghost’s though he was sharply dressed in a dark Prussian uniform. But he was so unlike any Prussian officer I have ever seen. He looked like the Devil.

Colonel Prescott was confused. I’ve never heard of such a man. If the Prussian regiment is here, they will no doubt join the British. We must not waste any time now.

Prescott turned to Swan. Well, Mr. Swan, you are among friends. We can use another rifleman, but you are in no condition to fight. My men will render you aid and safe passage by horseback west of here. Don’t get captured!

Swan nodded his gratitude. I will try not to, Colonel, and thank you for your kind support.

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Thomas Diamond carried a message in his leather knapsack; he rode up to three guards from the Lexington and Concord militia. The first guard, Private Janson Solomon-Fields, the only black soldier in the militia, received young Thomas, who explained he had a message from Colonel Prescott.

The boy was granted access to the colonel, who read the message. This is it, men, he announced. The offensive is today. Prepare for it. The British intend on hitting us hard.

Colonel Prescott wore a solid-blue officer’s coat with glossy, white trimmings and a vest with brass buttons. His white trousers had gold and blue stripes, and his aide had polished his boots to a shine.

Colonel Prescott directed Captain Richard Gridley, who was in charge of engineering and artillery, to ready five cannon around each wooden fortification. The cannon weren’t of the quality of European cannon, which were stronger and capable of firing balls made of iron and cobalt; the cannon they had could fire only lighter balls or grapeshot.

The colonel ordered the cannon to face the harbor, where the British would no doubt land. Colonel Prescott donned his bushy, white officer’s wig and addressed Captain Parker, who had been the commanding officer of the Lexington and Concord militia that had fought off the British forces at Concord Bridge in April. Captain Parker, see that your men are well armed and ready. Have them placed along the trench lines close to each cannon fortification.

Captain Parker saluted and left. Colonel Prescott turned to his highest-ranking enlisted man, and Irish-English commoner whose bravery in the French and Indian conflict and the battles of Lexington and Concord had earned him the rank of sergeant. Tavish Mugar was a merchant outside of Woburn after the end of the French and Indian War. The colonel gave Mugar his orders. Sergeant Mugar, you will have to take charge of the Concord minutemen platoon of thirty men along the fortification trench closest to the base of Breed’s Hill. This assignment is most crucial and dangerous. Yours will be the first men to face the British invasion.

The sergeant snapped to attention and saluted the colonel, did an about-face, and marched at attention out of the tent.

The colonel grasped a quill in a small jar of ink and wrote a message. He folded it and handed it to Thomas, the boy, who put it in his knapsack. The boy listened to the colonel.

Young Diamond, ride hard to Cambridge and give this message to General Washington and his men. Do you understand how important this is?

The boy nodded in acknowledgment and darted to his horse. It would be a long journey for him to Cambridge.

The Branfield Uxe Mansion, Boston. June 1775.

General Gage had been up late attending to his flag and field-grade officers, analyzing maps, and devising a battle strategy. He excused himself from the