By Thomas Wm. HAMILTON

                                   

Prologue:  Philadelphia, May 12, 1780

 

     "Tell me, Mr. Franklin, think you that we won the late war far too easily?"

     Benjamin Franklin eased back his elderly frame, and stared over his bifocals at George Washington.  "I have heard strange tales coming out of some battles, from Bunker Hill to New York Harbor, and beyond.  But I was in Paris or London for the duration of the fighting, and can tell little about the facts of the case.  You know this."

     "Aye, but I wish the benefit of your wisdom, and so I must request you to make a journey to a most curious site on Long Island.  They have many war orphans, and I am concerned for their welfare."

     "I daresay I know whereof you speak.  The rumors are out and strong."  Franklin made a theatrical groan.  "Cannot an old man get some rest?  Yet you presume in this case upon my curiosity, and so, despite reluctance, I go."

     Washington smiled.  "I will await with great interest your determination.  They have a most unique perspective on our history."  He paused, then repeated "most unique" with a chuckle.

Franklin was even more intrigued.  He had never known Washington to be a wit, or even an admirer of such.  And why such a barbarism as 'most unique'?

 

Chapter One:  Turn Back the Hands of Time

Thursday, April 30, 2009

     Sergeant/Major Larkin padded as silently as possible through the darkened halls.  It was well over an hour since taps, so he could legally be out, on his way to a latrine.  The problem was that he happened to be a long way from any latrine he would logically use.  Even a Sergeant/Major could get into trouble.  He passed the formal lobby, with its over-stuffed chairs, fancy, leather-bound sofas, and pricey carpeting.  Down the right side of the curving formal staircase to the landing.  The landing with grill work opening into a wind tunnel.  As Larkin knew from long, lonely late night hours at the adjacent switchboard two years earlier, the wind tunnel could be accessed by removing a mere half dozen screws from any one of the three grills.  At one end the tunnel led to the room where the band kept their instruments.  Larkin had only idle interest in the glockenspiel, drums, trumpets, and other noise making devices.  The other end of the tunnel led to a sealed and unused storage room.  At least, it had been unused until Larkin appropriated it to build his experiment.

     He lifted the grill, dropped into the tunnel, and reached back to pull the grill into place.  Now, if he were found missing, he would be regarded as AWOL.  If caught, he was definitely off limits.  Either one was sufficient to bust him off the battalion staff and back into ranks.  But virtually the entire battalion was scheduled to ship out Sunday afternoon for field training, and was not due to return until just two days before judging of the science fair.  He had a sockdoliger of an entry, unique and miles ahead of the usual cliched and politically correct environmental entries.  He knew one competitor, Cpl. Desmond, inspired by the five year old discovery that Arcturus had formed in a galaxy other than our own, was planning to present evidence of other stars formed outside our galaxy.  He hoped Desmond got entangled in a web of Population 2 stars to mess up his results.  But Larkin's own entry was not yet complete.  He had to work fiendishly to complete it.

     Sitting in the center of the otherwise abandoned storage room was a very strange looking construction.  Nearby were various tools, soldering irons, supplies.  Larkin wasted no time in getting to work on finishing what he hoped would be a generator of an impenetrable force field.  He worked for close to two hours, completing the device.  He checked his watch.  1:25 AM.  With reveille at 6:10 AM, he was likely to be well nigh worthless on Friday, but the job seemed to be complete!  A quick check to see if it worked--but Larkin carefully stepped back, not wanting to generate a force field which passed through his body.

     He pressed the button which should make it work.  Dials and gauges came to life.  He adjusted the powerflow.  With any luck, the field would not cut off one of his limbs when he hit the next switch.  He hit it.  There was a shudder, a thud.  Sparks flew from several places.  The device burst into flame at a few points.  Larkin cursed, and grabbed the fire extinguisher he had liberated early in his work.  

     With the fires out, it was obvious this device would never operate again.  Parts were broken, melted, fused, and otherwise rendered unusable.  He cursed again.  Forget the accursed science fair.  He went back down the wind tunnel, through the grate, and back up the formal stairs.  As he headed for his room, he ran into several people, all commenting on the strange shudder and thud.  Everyone argued as to whether Long Island was a known earthquake zone, but eventually all headed back to bed.  Larkin took a while to fall asleep, disgusted in his disappointment.

     Reveille:  Operating on sheer autopilot, Larkin threw on his uniform, and headed downstairs for morning assembly.  He took his accustomed position behind the battalion commander, Major Felbach, and to the left of the battalion adjutant, Captain Crespino.  Felbach ignored him.  Crespino nodded, and said, "Did you have your radio on this morning?"

      Larkin was so groggy from lack of sleep that he had to think for a moment before he even understood the question.  "I don't have a radio in my room.  Why, something interesting?"

     "Not unless you think nothing is interesting.  Our radio was dead, and so were the radios in the two rooms adjoining."

     "You two would provide a better role model for proper conduct at an assembly if you weren't jabbering," Felbach said without turning around.  Crespino grinned and mouthed what looked like "grouch" to Larkin. Larkin kept a poker face.  Felbach had been away when Larkin was promoted to Sergeant/Major, and had made it quite clear that he did not approve.  Nor was Larkin's record all that great.  For a couple years he had bounced so often between private and PFC that the Commandant had made a battalion-wide joke of him by commenting publicly that Larkin should get zippers put on his PFC stripe.  Just this past September he had been  promoted to platoon sergeant, and only two months later the Commandant had promoted him to Sergeant/Major and member of the battalion staff.  B Company second platoon got a new platoon sergeant, more geared for the strict discipline that bunch of crazies needed.

    Felbach checked his watch, and nodded to the bugler standing off to one side.  The first notes of the call to assemble were blaring out as a car pulled into the courtyard, narrowly missing the back row of the Band.

     The driver jumped out of the car, and yelled, "Have you medical staff on duty here?"  That question cut off the reprimand Felbach had been about to deliver.  Instead he turned, and ordered Larkin, "Go to the infirmary, and get the nurse."  Turning back to the driver, he said, "What's the problem?"

     As Larkin trotted away, he heard the driver say that as he was driving on the turnpike, a short distance away, he had come across a man crumpled on the ground, unconscious, and bleeding from what looked like a severe head injury.  Larkin ran faster.  The infirmary was a separate building located near the main building's loading dock.  It was marked with a large red cross painted on the roof a few years earlier by cadets working off some demerits.  Larkin found the nurse and her husband, a math teacher, just getting up in their apartment in the infirmary building.  He explained the emergency.  She grabbed an emergency kit and a cell phone, and followed Larkin in running back to the courtyard and the parked car.  She joined the driver in the car, which backed, turned around, and vanished as quickly as it had appeared.  

     Felbach called the battalion to attention.  "You've had your morning's little excitement.  Assembly for first mess at the regular time.  Rooms will be inspected by Capt. Crespino and the Officer of the Day during first mess.  Company commanders, you may dismiss your units when ready."  He did an about face and said in a lower tone, "While inspecting, Captain, you may think about keeping order in ranks.  Battalion staff, dismissed."

     Larkin shared a table with the Commandant for mess.  He loaded up on coffee in an effort to stay awake.  The Commandant's cell phone whistled.  He took it out.  "Gryffyth here."

     "Yes, Larkin was just filling me in."

     "The victim took a very severe blow to the head, minimum of a concussion, and possible skull fracture.  It looks like he was riding a horse along the road, and in the dark hit a tree branch, near the east end of the strip mall."

     "That's just one of several strange things.  All the power's out here, and so are the line phones.  I can't even get 911 to answer."

      The Commandant said, "Hold on," and called over one of the workmen.  "Get the pickup, load on a mattress, and go down to the east end of the strip mall.  Our nurse will be waiting there with a severely injured man.  Load him on and drive to the hospital."

      The nurse of course overheard this, as was intended, and said, "Wait, John.  One of the odd things is that the turnpike has vanished east of the mall."

       "The turnpike ends as though cut with a sharp knife.  Beyond it is a forest, with a dirt track that seems to roughly parallel where the turnpike was.  I think our patient was riding on the dirt track."

     "Alright," he said to the workman. "Bring him back here to the infirmary."  Into the phone:  "Anything else we should do?"

        "Take Sgt. Hardy with you," the Commandant told the workman.  Larkin, who had been following all this, got up and walked over to the tables where the troop ate, to find Hardy.  He got back in time to hear the Commandant ask if the patient was carrying any identification.

     "That's another part of the oddness," he heard the nurse say.  "He has sort of a leather pouch hanging from his belt.  There's no driver's license, credit cards, or anything else you might expect in it, except some very strange money.  A five pound note, four one pound notes, and several shillings, half crowns, whatever they are, six pence pieces, and the like."

     "The Brits have been using euros for at least a decade, and they abandoned most of the stuff you're talking about back when Thatcher was Prime Minister."

      "That's not the half of it.  None of the money has a date more recent than 1768, and refers to 'Georgium III Rex'."

      "The guy must have been at an SCA meeting.  The pickup will be there with your equestrian in five minutes.  I'll see you at the infirmary.  Keep trying to reach a local doctor on your cell phone.  Gryffyth out."

     The Commandant looked thoughtul for a moment, and then looked around the table.  "You are all under direct orders from me not to discuss or mention anything you may have overheard.  Am I clear?"  A chorus of "yes, sir" assured him he was.

     Following mess, Larkin was surprised to be ordered to the infirmary.  However, he had learned already that while Sergeant/Major was prestigious as a title, at times he was little more than a glorified gofer.  The patient was still unconscious.  A doctor Larkin did not recognize was examining an X-ray.  "There seems not to be any skull fracture, but you've got severe bruising along with the wound.  Why is this man dressed so oddly?"

     Larkin looked at the patient.  He was dressed like a character out of an historical painting--perhaps Ben Franklin style, although he looked a lot slimmer than Franklin.  Off on a side table was a bloodied hat, a tricorn!  The Commandant came in as the doctor resumed working on the wound, first packing it with antibiotic, and then stitching it up.  "How soon do you think he'll wake up?"

     "I've given him a sedative, so he probably won't wake up until late this afternoon.  Have you reached a hospital?  With a concussion, this head wound, and a cracked rib, he really should be in a bigger facility than your infirmary."

     "That's part of the curious events we're experiencing.  No landline phones are working, and cell phones reach only numbers in our immediate area.  No one seems to have  external power.  Since we installed wind generators several years ago, we have power, and a few neighbors with wind or solar that we've called have power.  Everyone else is dark.  We can't raise anyone on radio, TV, cable, internet, even the GPS is out."

     The Commandant turned to Sgt. Hardy, who was standing nearby.  "Sergeant, what did you do with this man's horse?"

     "Sir, since our stables are miles away, I brought the horse here, and it's tied to a fence post just off the parade grounds."

     "Good enough for now.  You may go wherever you're supposed to be.  Larkin, you're coming with me."  They went out to the Commandant's car.  Larkin got in the passenger seat, wondering where they were headed.  "I have a camera in the glove compartment.  Are you any good with cameras?"

     "I'm beginning to suspect you may have a chance to make some unique pictures.  Hang on."  The Commandant proved his reputation for slightly wild driving as he took a sharp curve onto a local road leading to the turnpike and the strip mall adjacent to where the patient had been found.  Another turn, and they were on the turnpike.  Traffic seemed to be nearly nonexistent, an unprecedented event.  They drove past the mall.  Larkin could see trees ahead, where the road should have been.  The Commandant was still driving until--hard  braking.  They stopped inches from the end of the turnpike.

     Several people were standing on one side.  The Commandant got out, and walked over to them.  "Has anyone tried to go into this new forest?"

    A fellow about 25 said, "I walked about fifty yards down the dirt track that seems to have replaced the turnpike.  All I saw were trees.  Oh, and a horse had relieved itself just about where I stopped and came back."

     The Commandant's eyes twinkled at the last remark, but all he said was "Very interesting."  He listened as the people present gave their opinions on what had happened.  Larkin nervously noted that one kept insisting the turnpike had vanished simultaneously with an "earthquake" about an hour or so after midnight.  In the midst of this discussion, another horseman came riding out of the dirt track leading from the forest.  He pulled up short at seeing the end of the dirt track and the crowd of people standing at the start of the  turnpike.  "Hallo!  What is this?"

     The Commandant took over before anyone else could react.  "I am Col. John Gryffyth.  My aide here is Sergeant/Major Larkin.  Whom have I the honor of addressing?"

     "I am James Paddington.  I am on my way to Brooklyn from the iron works in Patchogue.  I would hope to attain Brooklyn by nightfall.  What has happened here to our North Road?  And if you don't mind my saying so, Colonel, those are most unusual uniforms that you and your aide are wearing."  Larkin stared at Paddington.  He was dressed much like the patient picked up here earlier, from the tricorn on his head to the boots on his feet.  And we're the ones dressed oddly, he thought!

     Col. Gryffyth ignored the last remark, as he said, "You are in luck, sir, as for a short distance ahead you will find the road paved, permitting faster passage.  However, if I may be permitted, you certainly are not taking the most direct route from Patchogue to Brooklyn by coming through the North Shore."  

     Paddington touched his tricorn in a sort of salute.  "You have me there, Colonel.  I came this way because of a stop to see a young lady whose acquaintance I hope to improve."

     Gryffyth favored him with a momentary twinkle.  "We are all gentlemen here.  I'll ask no further on the subject."   Paddington removed his tricorn, and essayed a sort of bow from the saddle.  "Perhaps you could enlighten me on another topic.  Would you know the date?"

     "And the year?"

     Paddington blinked in surprise.  "'Tis the tenth year of our gracious king, George the Third, and the year 1770 of our Lord's birth."

    "Indeed, you are most kind to condescend to my foolish questions.  I wish you a good day, a safe journey, and your lady's favor."  Larkin stared at Gryffyth.  He had enough sense to keep his mouth shut, but he had never heard the Colonel speak in such stilted fashion, and the whole conversation seemed like madness.  Paddington again bowed from his horse, which with a flick of a whip cantered on down the turnpike.

     The Commandant turned to Larkin.  "Sergeant/Major, I am going to leave you here alone for a while.  I should be back with relief in an hour or so.  You saw how I handled this character.  Do you think you could do the same with anyone else who comes out of the forest?  And, also make certain none of the others hanging around here get involved?"

     "Good enough.  Your uniform alone should give you some sort of authority.  Before I leave, though, I must ask."  He pulled Larkin away from where anyone could hear them speak.  "Are you responsible for what happened?"

      "Me sir?  Why would you think that?"  Larkin's pulse rate shot way up.  He felt like he might faint.

     "Don't give me that.  You're the one person in the entire battalion with the brains to be able to do this, although I'm sure the consequences were not what you intended."

     "Sir, I was trying to create a force field.  You know string theory says that our three space dimensions and one time dimension are only a few of the existing dimensions, but the others are rolled up tight.  I figured if I could generate a field that made one of the space dimensions locally close on itself, I'd have an impenetrable field.  I think I must have goofed and rolled up the time dimension instead."

     Larkin looked wretched.  "No sir, my equipment shorted out and burned when I tested it.  And I don't have any replacement parts."

     "I doubt we'll find replacement parts available around here, if this really is 1770.  Tell absolutely no one what you just told me, because there'll be plenty of people who'll want to lynch you if they hear about this.  I'll be back with relief as soon as possible."  Gryffyth got into his car, and drove off.

     Larkin waited, while the dozen or so people standing around gradually got bored, and started to drift away.  After about half an hour, a wagon pulled by two mules came out of the woods on the dirt track.  The wagon had a poorly shaven, filthy man about 40 and an equally filthy, skinny boy of perhaps fourteen riding in front.  The back was loaded high with a variety of vegetables.  At the edge of the paved turnpike the mules paused, and the man looked up, apparently awakening.  "Hola!  What be this?"

      That's what I'm here for, Larkin told himself.  He stepped towards the wagon, noting a strong barnyard odor coming from somewhere.  The mules or the humans?  "I'm Sergeant/Major Larkin, temporarily in charge here.  Where are you going?"  Boy, if that isn't pushing the facts a bit!

     "We be headed to market with some early crops.  This be my son Jared, and I be Matthew Conroy."

     Thinking quickly, Larkin figured that there would be little food stored back at the battalion headquarters, since they had been scheduled to ship out in two days.  "Master Conroy, this may be your lucky day.  Our battalion is low on food supplies, and will, I suspect, pay you very well.  And what may be even more welcome, they are but half a mile from here, and the road is newly paved."

     Conroy agreed this was good news.  After getting directions from Larkin, he was handed a note the Sergeant/Major wrote from his ever-present stick pad.  "Ask for the Commandant or for directions to the loading dock.  The note says I directed you there and you should be allowed in."

     Little else happened for the next hour, when a car drove up, driven by the Assistant Commandant, Capt. Bacon.   A Company's First Sergeant got out, accompanied by a couple of hulking large privates.  The Sergeant carried his carbine.  "Okay Larkin, you're relieved.  Gryffyth said thanks for sending the wagon-load of food, that was using your head.  Now get on back, we're taking over here."  One of the privates started handing leaflets to the few people still standing around.

     Larkin got in the car, and they drove the short distance back.    On the drive he asked the Assistant Commandant what the leaflet was.  "Oh, we're inviting all the neighbors to a meeting in the auditorium late this afternoon.  The Colonel seems to think we have to explain something to the people living around here."  Just so he leaves my name out of it, Larkin thought.

     Back at the courtyard, Larkin got out of the car, and tried to catch the last of the morning classes he had missed.  At lunch he leaned over and whispered to the Colonel, "How did you pay that farmer I sent?"

     Gryffyth chuckled.  "We downloaded the infirmary patient's paper money into a computer, and then printed out copies using the color printer.  The thing's still running, but I'll bet we've already produced two thousand pounds.  Counterfeiting:  the first major felony of my life!"

     "Our copies are way beyond anything a contemporary counterfeiter could hope to achieve.  Even the Bank of England will never notice a thing wrong with our cash.  That farmer asked for two pounds for his entire wagon-load.  I'm sure he expected us to dicker, but I just handed him two one-pound notes.  You should have seen his expression!"  Gryffyth chuckled.

     Neighbors began arriving shortly before 5 pm, and were directed to the auditorium.  It comfortably seated the crowd of just over four hundred who showed up.  After waiting a few minutes for stragglers, Gryffyth walked on stage in full dress uniform, accompanied by the assistant commandant and headmaster.  As they were about to start, one of the teachers walked out and handed Rolandson a note.

     The headmaster rapped on the podium for silence, and then began.  "Welcome to North Shore Military Academy.  For those of you who do not know me, I am Leon Rolandson, headmaster.  With me is the assistant headmaster, Carl Mendham, Col. John Gryffyth, Commandant, and his assistant, Captain Charles Bacon.  Before we go any further, I would like to recognize a prominent dignitary who is with us today."  He glanced down at the note.  "The Honorable Joseph X. Casey, Judge of the Civil Court.  Would you please stand for a moment."

     "Judge, would you please join us up here?  For what I may have to say, your presence might be a help."  Looking very dubious, Casey worked his way to the aisle and went up on the stage.

      Rolandson resumed, "We invited all of you here to address the strange things you must have noticed.  Specifically, no radio, no TV, no cable, no internet, anything depending on the GPS is out, and those of you still hooked to LIPA are not getting any power.  Landline phones are dead, and cell phones can only reach a few neighbors.  Am I leaving anything out?"

     Gryffyth murmured a few words to him.  "Oh, and the roads out of this area seem to have vanished.  We'll address these and other issues after you watch a very brief videotape, all of which was shot this morning."  A ten foot screen rolled down as the lights dimmed, and they watched Gryffyth's interview with Paddington.  At the point where Paddington answered Gryffyth's query as to the date, there was a gasp and a mumble through the auditorium.  The tape continued, and the sounds died out as they saw the mule-drawn wagon.  Larkin's off-screen voice could be heard talking to the farmer.  After the wagon disappeared on its way to the school, the camera zeroed in on the point where the turnpike abruptly ended and the forest and dirt track began.  

     Finally, the audience saw a scene in NSMA's infirmary, with a man lying in bed.  The man's head was heavily bandaged.  A doctor, nurse, Rolandson, and Gryffyth all were standing near the bed.  The doctor was saying, "How are you feeling?"

     "That's what you get for running into a tree with your head.  Can you remember that happening?"

     "Do you remember your name?"

     "Do you know where you are?"

     "Do you know the date?"

     "The year?"

     Gryffyth stepped to the podium.  "I can well imagine what most of you are about to say.  Let me add to what you just heard.  Last night I was awakened near 1:30 by what felt like a minor earthquake.  When I went outside to see if there was any damage, I was puzzled at the sky.  The stars were correct, but instead of being just west of the meridian, Jupiter was low in the east, and instead of no moon, there was a moon low in the west.  I don't have any means of checking lunar phases or planetary positions for 1770, but the sky definitely indicated this was no longer 2009.  Let me now introduce Dr. Keith Rosenbaum for those of you who don't already know our distinguished neighbor.  Dr. Rosenbaum treated the injured man you just saw."

     Rosenbaum stepped to the podium.  "The man I treated, the man in the video you just watched, has a severe concussion.  His life is not in danger, and I have no fears about his recovery.  However, there are some distinctly odd features.  He has no vaccination marks on him.  He has a healed broken finger which clearly was either never set or set very badly.  And finally, I will swear that no dentist has ever looked into that mouth!"  Rosenbaum sat down.

     The room went noisily wild with people everywhere trying to speak.  After permitting a couple minutes of chaos, Rolandson took the mike and, with the gain apparently on full, called for silence.  This overrode the noise sufficiently that the room fell silent for a moment.  Taking advantage of this, Rolandson said, "Assuming we accept the validity of the obvious conclusions from all this, we face a number of problems.  First, food.  Your money is totally worthless, since it was issued by a country that does not yet even exist.  Second, you cannot safely tell the locals where we come from.  Their likeliest reaction is to think you mad.  You would not enjoy this century's idea of mental health treatments.  Those who are a bit more old fashioned might think you witches.   I trust we need not say more than the word 'Salem' to suggest you would not appreciate that reaction.  And if they believe you, we would be overrun by looters and by the British army.  Fortunately, we have some of the local currency, so for the time being, NSMA will take responsibility purchasing food from local farmers, as you saw us do on the video.  Now, if people will control themselves, I'll be delighted to take questions.  Please raise your hand to be recognized."

     Hands waved in every part of the auditorium.  Rolandson recognized the father of a day student at NSMA, and took him first.  "Our power is out.  What are we going to do?"

     "A splendid first question, since it must apply to many here."  Hands went down slowly as people realized Rolandson intended to speak for a while.  "NSMA gets its power via two windmills that were installed only a few years ago.  I understand some of the private homes in the area also have either wind or solar power.  The cell phone tower which has at least kept cell phone service operating  uses solar and wind both.  The country club offices for the golf course also uses wind.  We'll run lines from NSMA to about a dozen of our nearest neighbors, since we actually are slightly overproducing energy.  We'll also run lines from the country club, as it won't be in use.  That should power three or four homes.  The cell phone tower should easily power twenty or more homes, since there are very few cell phones using it, compared to what it was designed for, and the warning lights for low flying aircraft not only won't be needed, but would attract undesirable attention.  And every home with wind should be able to power at least one more home.  I think that within a few months we should have everyone hooked up.  As a practical matter, those who are without power now should use up any frozen or refrigerated foods first."

     Rolandson next chose a woman he did not know.  She stood up and loudly proclaimed, "I am Mrs. Florence Healey, a member of the Republican State Committee, and a personal friend of our member of Congress.  I demand you cease this nonsense instantly, and restore our power and our communications."

     "Madam, if I had the ability, I would have done all that without making all of you come here.  I have no idea how we were tossed back in time, but all the evidence shows it's real.  As for the member of Congress, that body won't be created for a few years yet, and your member won't be born for about 180 years."

     Rolandson pointed to a man towards the back.  The man stood up and said, "I'm Ken D. Land.  In addition to a gardening business, I grow things like Meyer lemon trees in my greenhouses.  If you aren't just goofing on us, I can help with some useful food crops."

     Rolandson thanked him profusely, and slipped a note to Vincent Avorna, one of the school's two science teachers, to drag Land out of the meeting and start working with him.  Most of the subsequent questions were directed to additional practical matters.  NSMA offered to open its classrooms to children suddenly left without schools, although they would be expected to participate in the academy's military discipline.  Work would begin immediately on hooking up those without power, and to providing an outlet for the sewage treatment plant.  Rolandson repeated Gryffyth's warning against discussing their origins with locals.  By 7:30 the meeting finally broke up, with Gryffyth asking any members of the National Guard or reserves to remain behind.

     Five men and two women stayed.  One man was a lieutenant in the Air National Guard.  Another was a sergeant in the 41st Field Artillery.  One woman was in tank maintenance.  The two remaining men were naval reserve petty officers.  Gryffyth addressed them, "Assuming we are correct about the time period, we are approaching a major war.  Your talents and knowledge will be important, even if there are no airplanes, tanks or other major technology.  We will be getting back to you as we develop our plans."  He dismissed them.  Four men and a woman left.  He looked at the remaining man, and did a double take.  "Dan Howard!  And how's our former D Company commander doing?"

     "I've decided I'm not really all that happy with college, but I guess that's not important now, anyway.  Do you think you can use me?"

     "Use you?  You're automatically back in your old job of armory officer, and we'll put you to good use in training.  We've lost most of our day students, but we just obligated ourselves to take on all the kids who came through with us.  If you're willing, at least until we train a few of them, I'd appreciate it if you would again serve as D company commander."   Howard indicated this was agreeable.

     "I'm Sheila Shenberg, professor of history at Queens College.  The colonial and early federalist period is not my area of specialty, but I have a couple books on the period at home.  Whatever your plans, I could be some sort of help."

     Gryffyth's response was to drag her off to meet with Rolandson.  There they had a long discussion on just what they could hope to accomplish.  After an initial discussion, Mendham, the Assistant Headmaster, and Bacon, the Assistant Commandant, were invited to join the planning conference.  All agreed that discouraging slavery and averting genocide against the Indians were desirable.  They were undecided on trying to include Canada when the United States came into existence.  Shenberg insisted that the Americans had already hopelessly poisoned relations with anti-Catholic rhetoric.  She did argue for trying to get women the vote, if possible.  The issues were left unresolved.

     At Saturday morning reveille Major Felbach read a series of announcements to the battalion.  "Plans for going to Camp Smith for field training are cancelled.  Normal weekday class schedules will run instead.  There will be no weekend passes until further notice."  This was greeted with muted boos and groans.  "All seniors will report to the library for a special meeting after first mess today."  After he dismissed the battalion Crespino asked if he knew what the meeting was about.  Felbach replied, "You'll find out at the meeting, just like the rest of the senior class."

     Since class meetings were almost never held, there was no assigned seating.  Larkin sat with a couple friends.  Col. Gryffyth and Mr. Rolandson walked to the front of the library.  Rolandson began, "Our regular commencement ceremonies will be held on schedule.  I realize that few of you will have your families present.  I'm sorry about that, but all of us have been stranded, and must make the most of our lives as they are presented to us."  He continued with a lengthy speech of encouragement, ending with, "After graduation, each of you will receive intensive training in contemporary life, politics, and habits, so you will be less likely to reveal yourselves.  Until that training is successfully completed, you will be confined to campus or the small area surrounding us.  For the future, we intend to break you up into groups of roughly ten or so and assign you to different colonies.  The same will be done with the next three or four graduating classes as they graduate.  If we're successful, we should be able to shorten the coming war, and alleviate some of the problems in America which would otherwise remain.  Yes, Lt. Darcy?"

     Darcy, a platoon leader in the troop, stood up.  "Sir, could I be part of the group assigned to Boston?  I"m related to the Adamses, and it'd be fun to meet them."

     Rolandson looked around.  "Is there anyone else who wants to be assigned to a particular location in order to meet relatives?"

     "My, uh, I think, uh seven times great grandfather was Rev. John Larkin.  He loaned his second best horse to Paul Revere, and uh, never got it back, according to my father.  Maybe I could help him get it back.  And his father's house was burned down by British troops marching to Bunker Hill."

     From somewhere in the room a voice muttered loudly, "Larkin, you ain't related to the horse's owner, you're the horse's rear end."

     Gryffyth stood up and glowered at the room.  "The circumstances are no excuse for a loss of discipline, gentlemen.  Demerits will continue to be handed out, and marching details will continue to work them off.  I would hate to see too many people busted in rank between now and commencement."  Felbach got up and stood to one side, where he could keep an eye on everyone.

     Rolandson again took over.  "Is there anyone else who knows of family in America in this era?  Don't concern yourselves with family back in Europe.  I don't see us being involved or making contact with them any time soon."

     After a few moments of silence, the commander of A Company stood up.  Rolandson permitted himself to look a bit surprised.  "Yes, Captain Green?"

     "Sir, I don't know anything about any of my family this far back, but the Afro-American students met in my room last night, and asked me, as the highest ranking Afro-American cadet, to ask what your plans are for us."

     "That's a reasonable question.  The Administration of this academy wants to achieve a few things.  One is to encourage as early and peaceful an end to slavery as possible.  We also hope to see the Revolution carried through with a minimal loss of life, particularly on the American side, and the Constitution adopted as easily as possible.  Clearly your group has a role to play, but life for you could be extremely dangerous.  We won't force any assignments on any of you.  However," looking at the rest of the group, "neither will we assign anyone to an area where their family is known to be already established.  The temptation to interfere or to reveal yourself would be far too great.  Getting back to Capt. Green, as an example of your personal danger, slaves were not permitted to keep African-sounding names, so you couldn't go anywhere using your first name."

     "Sir, I'm proud of the name Rakim.  I'm named for my grandfather.  He was a green beret and was awarded a silver star and a purple heart in Viet Nam."

     "That's all well and good, but you won't help your cause by attracting unwelcome attention, and you certainly can't go around talking about the Viet Nam war!"

     "I understand.  I'm willing to use a fake name as long as we know its fake, and work wherever we decide is best."

     "Thank you," Rolandson said.  "I hope the rest of our cadets feel the same way.  Our plan is that after graduation, your class, and future classes after their graduation, will get several months intensive training in the customs of this period, and the simple every day knowledge people are expected to have, such as reasonable prices, and prominent names.  You'll also get practice in concealing any foreknowledge.  Finally, you will be assigned one of the areas we have pinpointed as important.  Only those with excellent grades in French will be considered for Montreal or Quebec, and their post-graduation training will include a heavy dose of conversational French."

     "We're still working on those plans in conjunction with the history professor and your own  history teacher.  However, Boston, Hartford, several points in New York City, Trenton, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Richmond, and Charleston, South Carolina, which in this time period is still called Charles Town.  There may be more.  Nassau in the Bahamas, for example."

     Darcy raised his hand with a big grin.  "If you won't trust me in Boston, I'll gladly volunteer to spend the next few years in the Bahamas.  Especially the winters.  I spent Christmas vacation last year there."

     Actually, the next three years were no picnic, either.  Purchasing food for nearly 800 people is not difficult or expensive in a time when one farmer produces enough for 50 or more people.  But in a time when one farmer produces barely enough for four people, food is more expensive and harder to collect.  Land's garden supply store in the strip mall was ransacked not just for gardening tools, but for seed stock of edibles, including radishes, onions, lettuce, tomatoes, and much else.  Over two dozen of the neighbors brought back with NSMA had their own garden plots, fruit trees, and the like.  One even had a few chickens in total violation of (no longer relevant) zoning laws.  Yields for all these were in every case well beyond those normal to crops or chickens native to the Eighteenth Century.  By the Fall of 1770 some crops were already providing useful amounts of food, and by the Fall of 1772 the displaced people from the Twenty First Century were providing almost all of their non-dairy and non-meat foods from their own sources.  Even eggs were approaching sufficient levels.  Plans were made to earn a bit of cash by selling surplus.

     Students brought in from neighboring families were integrated into the military academy's classes and structure.  The biggest change was not academic, but intermural.  The academy had teams in all the expected sports and a few not so common, but suddenly these teams had no opponents.  Basketball and tennis were not to be invented for over a century, and while progenitors of baseball and football existed, nothing resembling the modern game was played.  Nor were there schools in the area against which NSMA teams could play.  And a women's wrestling team, created from experienced athletes added to the NSMA rolls, would have caused little beyond shock and horror to contemporaries.

     Much of the first year was devoted to creating some croplands in the area transported through time and getting electrical power back to everyone.  Once that was done, the school's radio station went back on the air.  One year to the day after the time transference television was again available, leaning heavily on people's stocks of old movies and TV shows, interspersed with lectures on Eighteenth Century customs and some surreptiously created footage of people and events within a few miles of the school.

     Since ammunition was available for only 220 rounds per rifle, setting up a manufactory for ammo was also high on the list of needed items.  The school had two Operation Desert Storm era M102 howitzers mounted near the entrance with plaques memorializing several alumni who had died in wars.  The howitzers had long since been modified to be unuseable (just in case anyone had some 105 mm shells lying around), but they provided the models by which new simplified howitzers were to be built.  It was expected that by the outbreak of fighting in 1775 NSMA would have about 3000 rounds of ammunition for each of its 320 rifles, and perhaps as many as 22 functioning howitzers with a few dozen shells each.  Several of the neighbors had modern hunting rifles, and two had shotguns.  Some thought was given to sending graduating seniors to one of the handful of colleges--Columbia (still called King's College, and located near the bottom end of Manhattan), Princeton, William & Mary, Harvard, and Yale.  The problem was that all assumed a good knowledge of Latin and Greek for admission.  Also, it was felt that none really offered a serious education in terms that the 21st Century could respect.  Several students who wanted to become doctors, for example, found nothing acceptable for a medical education (hardly surprising in an era when bleeding was regarded as proper for treating pneumonia and a host of other ailments), and those hoping to be lawyers found the accepted route was not college, but an apprenticeship.  The two doctors sat with the school's science teachers and an industrial engineer from Northrup-Grumman.  Together they tried to work out a plan for making their own penicillin and aspirin. 

     Prof. Shenberg gave them part of their instruction, wrapping up with, "You will only get involved in important battles that the Americans would otherwise lose.  First of all, we don't want to risk your lives needlessly, and secondly there is the so-called butterfly effect, which suggests that something as minor as whether a butterfly flaps its wings can have a profound effect a couple weeks later on the opposite side of the Earth."

     Groups of graduates, following the training, were shipped out.  Felbach commanded the first group, which was sent to Boston.  Four of them joined the fun at the Boston Tea Party in 1773, while the rest sat it out.  Crespino headed a group of six sent to Staten Island, while other groups went to Brooklyn and Manhattan.  Darcy got his second choice, and established himself with five others at Nassau in the Bahamas.  Larkin wound up leading seven in Philadelphia.

October 10, 1770:  "Capt. Green, you and the fourteen cadets selected to go with you have completed the best training we can give to prepare you.  You'll also be starting with 500 pounds in British currency and a small amount of French and Spanish money.  How ready do you feel?"

     "Ma'am," Green replied, "I've experienced a few rough times in my life from racist attitudes, and I'm sure this will be a hundred, even a thousand times worse.  But we're ready, even eager to go."

     "We're not unrealistic.  A bit idealistic perhaps, but we figure we can do the job."

     "We'll try to link up with some local radicals called the Regulators, and try to influence them for ending slavery and cooperating on working for American independence."  

     "The current North Carolina capitol is in Hillsborough, near Chapel Hill, but Governor Tryon will be building himself a new capitol in New Bern, near the coast, in a few years.  We really don't know whether you would be better off setting up early in New Bern, or heading for Hillsborough."

     "I'm thinking of establishing a group of four, including one Afro-American cadet, in New Bern, and the rest of us going to Hillsborough.  New Bern may be firmly established as the capitol by the time the war starts, but I think we can be more effective in the interior.  I know we'll be separated by a day's travel time, but we can keep in touch by radio."

      Green's group traveled south, taking a hired ship from Brooklyn to North Carolina.  Once there, the commander of the group had to adopt the public appearance of being a slave to one of his real subordinates.  The four cadets to be left in New Bern planned to set up a business there, but found the first requirement was a bribe to Gov. Tryon for a permit to do business.  This took twenty of their pounds, while a license to establish a print shop took another thirty pounds.  Corporal Borden, whom Green had appointed as their business manager/accountant/treasurer, was at least as furious as Green himself.  Green reported the costs back to NSMA headquarters.

      The assistant headmaster was doing radio duty.  "I really don't see what you're griping about.  All the money you're carrying is counterfeit anyway.  It's not like anyone had to work to earn the price of the bribe."

     "It's the principle of the thing.  And I don't like getting involved in governmental corruption.  Do you think we should send a letter to the King complaining?"

      Green grunted in disgust.  "At least I shouldn't have to bribe anyone when we establish ourselves in Hillsborough.  Green out."

     Adjusting to the local culture, the bribe was paid, and the license obtained.  A fake print shop made to look like a contemporary installation was created.  A back room got the benefit of goods found in a forgotten store room back at NSMA:  a mimeograph machine, with a typewriter to help cut stencils.  In Hillsborough the group bought a farm in Corporal Borden's name, since a slave could hardly pull out hundreds of pounds to buy land and a house.  They began to get acquainted with the neighbors.

 

Chapter Two:  The Dogs of War

Eight months later.     

 

Half a dozen men came riding up to the farm house outside Hillsborough.  Fenwood, a black cadet who fancied himself as an actor, assumed the expression of a village idiot.  Capt. Green went into the house and summoned the nominal owner, Cpl. Borden, who went out and greeted the visitors.  After exchanging the usual pleasantries, one of the horsemen said, "We're lookin' fer a pack o' runaways.  Seven prime bucks, four wenches, and a couple o' pickaninnies."

      "Damn," Borden replied, "I had me a big buck and a prime high yaller gal light out on me jest last week.  I called 'em Jethro an' Jezebel."   Fortunately no one was looking at Fenwood, because his eyes popped, and he was very obviously suppressing some strong emotion.  He ran around to the back of the house.  Muffled laughter could be heard.

     "One hell of a lot o' darkies been runnin' off lately," said a second visitor, thwacking his thigh with a rolled up whip. 

     "Humph,  So you ain't seen no sign o' ours?"

     "'Spect you got that 'un right.  Well, have a good day, an' be on the watch fer more runaways."

     "You bet I will.  Life's hard enough withouts we get the expense o' raisin' a pack o' ungrateful darkies, and then they runs off.  Ifn you hear-tell uv a pair uh runaways named Jethro an' Jezebel, they bes mine."

    Green walked over to Borden and shook his hand.  "As of now, you're a sergeant, and the best damned actor in North Carolina."

     Borden shuddered and then started laughing.  "They must've been looking for that last group you liberated.  Let's not do too much of that near here, I'm not sure my nerves could stand it."

      As additional classes graduated, others groups went to Connecticut, Rhode Island, South Carolina, Georgia, New Hampshire, and Canada. Two other groups went to live in western New York, an area legally closed to settlement under the Intolerable Acts passed by Britain, to live with the Iroquois, and an area west of South Carolina and north of Georgia to live with the Cherokee.  The school's history teacher was half Iroquois, and had picked up some of the language from his mother.  He taught this and some details of the culture to the detachment assigned there.

     As groups travelled to their assignments, they checked in by radio daily.  Once on site, they generally reported every third day unless there was a problem.  Any close calls with revealing an anachronism had to be reported immediately.  One of the first of these came from Lt. Larkin in Philadelphia.

     "I don't know what the 2010 census would have shown for a population in Philly, but right now I doubt it has 25,000 people.  With such a small population, we keep running into the same people.  Of course, that isn't really much of a disadvantage.  One local I've gotten acquainted with is a very talented mechanic named David Rittenhouse.  His whole family seems to be oriented towards making things and being interested in science.  A few hours ago I ran into Rittenhouse as he was going into a tavern.  He dragged me in with him and started talking about something he was making.  I didn't pay much attention to his babble about gear ratios and the like until he said all this was to make a better planetarium.

     "Without thinking I told him we had one of those in a 24 foot dome back at my old school, made by Minolta.  I managed to keep myself from saying I didn't know planetariums existed so long ago.  He looked at me quizzically, and asked who was this Minolta.  'I thought,' says he, 'I knew the names of all the few who are interested in such things.'  I shook my head and told him semi-honestly I didn't take enough interest in it to know who or where Mr. Minolta might be.  I really don't know who, but I'm pretty sure I remember Minolta was Japanese, a nationality unlikely to be involved in trade in America during this time period I should think."

     "Anyhow, I asked him to describe his planetarium, wondering how he intended to project star images without electric lights, and he described an orrery.  He even included four moons for Jupiter and a few for Saturn.  I did not tell him Jupiter has over 70 moons, or ask him why he left out both of Mars' moons.

     "Of course, then he wanted to know what our planetarium looked like, so I described the little orrery we have sitting in the science lab, with a large yellow ball mounted on a metal rod and thin rods coming out for each of the planets--except I didn't mention it showed nine planets or rings around four of them.  I did stress it showed no moons at all, and gave him lots of praise for including them, as well as the gearing to give relative motions.  I think I left him assured that his so-called planetarium was way better than ours, and he had little to fear from any competition by the mysterious Mr. Minolta."

     Larkin was bawled out for the initial slip, and congratulated for the way he covered it.  A transcript was sent to everyone from the Twenty-first Century to learn from Larkin's experience.

     The neighbors who had been dragged along with the academy into the past had a role to play also.  Gryffyth and his assistant met with one.  "Mr. Pardell, I understand you were one of the people with prior military experience."

     "Yes, I was in the reserves, in an artillery unit.  But I'm afraid our howitzers and whatnot didn't have much in common with the cannons used in the 1770s."

     "I was Vice President for marketing of a small chain of convenience stores, Pete's Places, if you know them."

      "Of course, everyone's shopped there on occasion."  Capt. Bacon nodded.  "You sound like you're just the man we need for a very important job.  The nearest source of iron manufacturing seems to be in Patchogue, which sounds very strange.  I don't imagine anyone in 2009 ever thought of Patchogue as a a mining and manufacturing town."

      Pardell shook his head.  "To me it was just a rather underperforming Pete's Place, and the location of a wholesaler we used."

     "Good, so you're acquainted with its location, even if 1770 Patchogue looks totally different from the Patchogue you know.  I'm going to ask you to go there and bargain with the local iron manufactory to make the parts for new howitzers.  You know we've got two mounted near the entrance to the academy.  We'll disassemble them, make molds of the crucial parts, and have the people in Patchogue make them.  Since the parts will be disassembled, and we'll have multiple copies of each part made at a separate time, they'll never see the completed item or know what we're making.  Same can be done for the shells.  Think you're up to dealing with these people?"

     "A pleasure, gentlemen.  It'll feel good to know I'm being useful, and working in something like my old job, even if I'm not dickering on obtaining the best price for the makings of Pete's Famous Burpable Breakfasts."

     Gryffyth winced.  "Perhaps even a bit more desirable.  I tried one of those--once."  Gryffyth didn't notice his assistant winking.  Before Pardell could leave, they spent hours working on ways to simplify the howitzer and to bring down its weight, since the model they were using originally weighed 3338 pounds--rather excessive for horses to pull.

     Mrs. Healey initially looked like she would be a trouble maker, but Prof. Shenberg got her interested in providing uniforms for the troops so that Valley Forge would not be such a gruesome experience, in return for a promise to introduce her to any historically important people who might visit NSMA.  (Shenberg, Gryffyth, and Rolandson all devoutly prayed that there would be no visitors, prominent or otherwise.)  Mrs. Healey found a dozen sewing machines and volunteers to work them among the people from 2009, and set a goal of 1200 uniforms by the time fighting began.  This meant trading for buttons, wool, cotton, and leather.  Her group also provided fresh uniforms for NSMA cadets.  Colors were a bit off, but at least the day students (including NSMA's first ever female students) drawn from the families involuntarily brought into the past looked much like the rest of the cadet corps, except for buttons instead of zippers on their flies.

     NSMA would have had a commencement exercise on Sunday, June 5, 2011, except that they now were in 1772.  Classes were considerably enlarged by the academy having taken in as day (non-boarding) students the school children of all the neighbors who came back through time.  And for this reason, NSMA also had its first female students.  This led to some surprises:

     "Sgt. Palmer, you will be in only the second group of female students to graduate.  Your academic record is outstanding.  Your acceptance of the military was one of the best among the students forced to attend NSMA after the time slip.  And you have awards as our best female athlete and wrestler.  What do you see as your role in the approaching war?"  Prof. Shenberg was conducting the exit interview, backed by the Commandant, Headmaster, and Dan Howard.

     Gryffyth frowned.  "You should have learned by now that we don't interfere in areas where the Americans have an easy time of it.  And Vermont will be one of the easiest."

     "I'm not looking at the battles.  I read that Vermont adopted a state constitution in 1777 that  was the first to ban slavery and grant universal suffrage--to men.  I'm hoping that if I can spend the next five years there working on the women, I can get them to demand the right to vote also."

    Rolandson perked up.  "My grandmother was a suffragette.  I believe she got arrested a couple times."

    "Just the sort of thing I hope to avoid, sir.  Look, in our history, Wyoming was the first to give women the right to vote, in 1869, when it was still a territory.  The women's suffrage amendment wasn't added to the Constitution until 1920.  I'm hoping to cut at least a century off that."

     Shenberg said, "I say we let her try.  There's no harm done, and she may be successful."

     Gryffyth said, "Will this have any hopes of influencing the constitutional convention when we get around to that?"

     Shenberg shook her head.  "Vermont wasn't there.  In fact, they won't be allowed into the Continental Congress, because both New York and New Hampshire claimed Vermont belongs to them.  Vermont was the fourteenth state.  Giving women the right to vote, if Miss Palmer is successful, will have only a limited influence, but it's a start."

     Sgt. Mary Louise Palmer got her wish, and left for Windsor, Vermont on August 1.  Shenberg saw her off, and anyone looking closely would have seen a tear in her eye.

     Capt. Green held one of the few walkie talkies in North Carolina.  Sgt. Kean, a 1773 graduate of NSMA, was reporting in.  "The posse chasing your latest group of runaways is anticipating your setting up another ambush."

     "No, no, sir.  Sorry.  They're anticipating somebody, whoever is helping all the runaways, to have an ambush.  Seems like you've pulled off one too many.  Anyhow, the initial posse, intended to spring your ambush, will have only twenty men.  Two additional groups, including at least a hundred soldiers, will be riding to a flank and behind.  They figure they'll squeeze the ambushers and kill or capture most of them."

     "I doubt even they know, since that's sure to be influenced by the local topography."

     "Gotcha.  Make sure you aren't with any of the groups when they arrive at map co-ordinates G17, 28P.  Repeat, G17, 28P."

     Green set up a unique ambush for the groups tracking the latest 117 runaways.  So many people, even with the best of intentions, could not help but leave an easy track to follow, and in any case, by this time the escape route had been used by so many thousands in flight that most of the land route could be travelled by horse drawn vehicles.

     On the western slope of the Great Smokies, not far from where Asheville, NC would some day exist, the track pressed against the side of a four thousand foot mountain, dropping precipitously to a distant stream.  Flankers were impossible.  Below the trail it was impossible to hope to climb up should a battle begin.  Above the trail the ground was so steep a mountain goat would have been intimidated.  Along here Green prepared his ambush, with thirty men climbing fifty to a hundred feet above the trail.  Among them were five modern rifles.  Thick hardwood trees were scattered.  A mile further along the trail a second ambush was set, with another seven rifles.  In the space between, along the trail, Green planted some explosives.

     The ensuing massacre marked the last serious organized effort to halt slave runaways in North Carolina.  Green had two fatalities, neither an NSMA graduate.  The attackers lost 97 dead, along with almost all their supplies, weaponry and horses.

     Green directed his troops to round up the horses and scavenge the supplies and weaponry.  All were turned over to the escaping slaves.  

     In March of 1775, a month before fighting broke out with the Battle of Lexington, Rolandson, Gryffyth and Shenberg were carefully going over the reports all the various detachments had been sending back.  It had been stressed to Felbach that his people were under no circumstances to get involved with the opening skirmishes.  Their first move was to be at the start of the third British attempt to take Bunker Hill.  Gryffyth said, "Here's something very odd.  Generally reports are made by the local commander, but in North Carolina we haven't heard from Capt. Green personally since last summer."

     "Yes, and very carefully trained on how to handle himself.  I'm going to send an immediate message to him."  Gryffyth led the way to the radio room, and got the duty operator in Hillsborough.  "This is Col. Gryffyth.  I want to speak to Capt. Green immediately."

     "Captain Green, we haven't heard from you in so long we were getting concerned.  Are you aware the war starts next month?"

     "Yes, sir.  I've been around, I guess I've just been so busy going back and forth to New Bern that I let other people make the reports."

     "We have seventeen detachments out.  I'm certain all their commanders are busy, but you're the only one too busy to report for eight months."

    "Ouch, has it been that long?  I'm truly sorry sir.  I'll try to do better.  I promise, I checked all the reports you got, and had no changes to make."

     "See that you do call in personally.  Gryffyth out."  He clicked off the radio and turned to Rolandson and Shenberg.  "He's up to something.  We should have created a Inspector Corps to travel around checking on these kids."

     "A bit late now," replied Rolandson.  "Anyone we put into it now would be so junior to the ones in the field that they would carry no weight."

***************************************************************************

     Green heard Gryffyth end with "Gryffyth out," and a click.  He clicked off himself, and turned to the radio operator.  "Did you tell him anything?"

    "They're getting suspicious.  I should have worked out a way of reporting in while I was leading those groups to Arkansas.  Well, too late now.  With the war starting, they'll be too busy to worry about why I was silent so long.  At least I'm no longer involved with those treks to Arkansas.  We practically have a road for the land part of the trip, and plenty of people to act as guides."

     The battle of Lexington was past.  The drums of war were summing participants.  Colonists were being forced to decide:  fight for king or fight for country.  Boston harbor was ordered closed to all ships.  Washington, Sam Adams, Hancock were a few of the names on a long list ordered arrested and transported to London to face trial on suspicion of treason.  Governor Hutchinson of Massachusetts, who had been promoted from Lt. Governor in recognition of his handling of the aftermath of the Boston Massacre in 1770, was replaced by General Gage as Governor, and Gage was additionally named commander of all British troops in America.  The Continental Congress named Washington as Commander of all American troops.  Revolutionary troops began to gather outside Boston.

June 17, 1775:  Americans besieged Boston from Breed's Hill, while the British sloop Lively tried to shell them.  It succeeded in setting fire to much of the suburb of Charles Town.  Col. William Prescott ordered his troops not to fire on the advancing Brits "until you can see the whites of their eyes."  Brigadier General Robert Pigot commanded two British regiments which advanced up the hill towards the trench and breastworks the Americans had built, while General William Howe advanced along the shore until blocked by New Hampshiremen under Col. John Stark.  Beyond Breed's Hill, near the foot of Bunker Hill, fifteen NSMA graduates under the command of Major Felbach fretted in frustration as they could hear the sounds of battle.

     "Listen closely and understand this.  The muskets these people are using are accurate up to no more than 35 yards.  The American tactic is to wait until the enemy is just within that range before firing.  The British tactic traditionally has been to advance from that point as quickly as possible, first firing their single shot, and then using bayonets.  You should be able to fire off full clips of eight rounds with your M1s so fast that in the time they take to fire one shot, and then reload, you get off 20 to 24 shots.  Obviously we have a greater range than they do, so our small number should be the equal of a couple companies of their soldiers in terms of firepower."

    Pvt. Walsh, one of three former cadets to have been sent to join Felbach in just the past year, said, "So Major, why aren't we in there now if we're such hotshots?"

     "The brains back at NSMA feel it's better for the Americans to build up their confidence by creaming the first two British assaults.  Historically the third assault was a success because the Americans ran out of ammo, but the cost to the Brits was so lopsided, that they never again  tried to move against the Americans from Boston, and in fact, will evacuate Boston next March.  What we'll do is block that last advance.  It's led by General Sir Howard Clinton, and because it was successful, he was later promoted to command all the British troops in America.  So by stopping him today, we'll be doing a lot of good further down the line."

     With those words of encouragement, he called, "Detail, fall in.  Dress right, dress.  Left face.  Forward march."  NSMA was on its way to meet the forces of the British empire.

     The area around them was littered with other groups of American soldiers, from squads up to company size.  All were arguing whether or not to march up Breed's Hill and join the fight.  It was a rare group which had as many as two men in a complete uniform, and many wore nothing that resembled a uniform.  By contrast, the NSMA group wore battle fatigues--not something the Eighteenth Century had ever seen before, but with their odd rifles, garb, and loud cadence count, they attracted plenty of attention.  Several groups seeing the NSMA detail marching so smartly made up their minds and followed.

     Upon reaching the redoubt, Felbach scattered seven men to his left, eight to the right, at intervals of about six yards.  Below them they could see a hill with scores of dead bodies, all in the red uniforms of the British army.  Just beyond the foot of the hill the remnants of Howe's and Pigot's forces were being joined by a fresh regiment under Clinton's command, along with two companies of marines.  The men who had faced the first two advances expressed dismay.  Many who were out of ammunition began to withdraw.  Some of those who had just come up the hill joined them.

     Orders being called to the British soldiers could be heard clearly.  They formed their lines and began their third advance up the hill.  When still a good eighty yards away Felbach pulled out a whistle and blew it.  The colonials turned and stared at him, but this was the signal for NSMA.  They began their fire.  Sixteen rifles pouring out 20 to 24 rounds a minute at 2500 men massed together and marching up hill towards them.

     The third British advance was broken within minutes, and broken far more thoroughly than the first two.  Pigot and Clinton were both injured.  Eight hundred men, including General Howe, lay dead.  A group of about 400 were still standing.  Col. Prescott called to them, "I wish to kill no more.  Will you surrender now?"  

     "We will treat the wounded, and disarm the rest.  You will be given all the courtesies."

     Pigot cried, "Men, they have the better of us this day.  I would not see any more such brave fellows go to their deaths.  These colonials were once as British as we.  Perhaps they will be as honourable.  Lay down your arms."  He sagged back, bleeding from his left thigh and shoulder.

      Prescott waved his men forward, and strode over to where Felbach stood.  "Who the devil are you, and where did you get those demonic weapons?"

     "I'm Major Robert Felbach, and I know you are Col. Prescott.  Honored to meet you, sir.  We are a detachment from Long Island, and if I may be so bold, could I suggest that before we chat any further, we enter the city of Boston and free it from any lingering British influence?"

     Prescott detailed men to guard the prisoners and look after the injured.  Then he and Felbach led five hundred colonial troops into the city of Boston.  As Orange Street gave way to Newbury Street, Prescott sent a company into Common Street to their left, and another company into Essex Street to the right.  At the corner of Marlborough Street and Rawsons Lane they came to Province House, the governor's official residence.  Two tall grenadiers stood guard outside.  The colonials bunched up staring at them.  Prescott ordered his men to surround the House.  As this was going on, a messenger rushed up, and informed him that General Clinton had expired from his injuries.  Prescott and Felbach walked to the entrance.

     Col. Prescott addressed the guards.  "Please inform General Gage that Col. Prescott and Major Felbach present their compliments and wish to meet with him."  Wordlessly, one guard entered the House.

     Everyone stood silently for several minutes.  Felbach was beginning to get a bit worried, when the door opened.  The grenadier, still without speaking, held it open.  Prescott entered, followed by Felbach.

     A portly man in a a resplendent uniform stood in the foyer.  "I am General Gage.  Who are you people?"

     "Col. Prescott and Major Felbach of the Continental Army, at your pleasure, sir.  We have come to request your surrender."

    "Surrender?  Are you mad?  I have 2500 men under my command, plus a ship of the line, and other ships.  I'll accept your surrender."

     "General," said Felbach gently, "you apparently are not informed as to the results of the battle just fought near Bunker Hill.  Your forces under Generals Howe and Pigot made two advances to remove the colonial army.  These advances were turned back with the loss of about 225 lives.  On the third advance General Clinton joined in.  This advance saw the loss of an additional 800 lives.  There are also a total of about 600 injured from the three attempts.  The dead include Generals Howe and Clinton.  General Pigot is injured, and our prisoner, along with about 450 men who were unhurt.  At least five hundred members of the Continental Army have entered Boston, including a hundred or so who are surrounding this building."

     Gage turned gray.  He spoke with difficulty.  "I trust you will permit me to fetch my sword to present to you."

     Prescott bowed.  "Certainly sir, we mean you no disrespect.  I regret you could not surrender to a higher ranking officer than myself, but our General Warren was one of the sixty fatalities we suffered, and General Washington is not due here for a couple weeks."

     Gage did not respond.  He walked with a slight stagger from the foyer into an adjoining room.  Moments later a single shot rang out, followed by a sound like a thud.  The two grenadiers looked in as Prescott and Felbach dashed through the door Gage had gone through.

     "Merciful God in heaven," Prescott exclaimed.  Felbach stared at the  body of General Thomas Gage, blood pouring from his head, a smoking pistol lying nearby.  "Shenberg is going to love this set of butterflies," he muttered.  The grenadiers looked at the general's body, inverted their muskets, and offered them to Prescott.  

     The final clearing up of matters in Boston took several hours.  The sloop Lively escaped, its crew having observed the disaster of the battle.  However the frigate Glasgow, and  ship of the line Somerset, with 68 cannon, were taken at anchor.  Many British soldiers who had fled the scene were rounded up as additional prisoners.  Injured from both sides were taken to the work house at Rawsons Lane and the Common, but it could not hold all of them.  The Anabaptist church and other buildings were pressed into use.

     The following day those members of the Massachusetts legislature who were present met in Guild Hall, and elected an Acting Governor, John Adams.  Prescott, finally free for a few moments, hunted down Felbach, who explained he had orders once Boston was secure to proceed to Quebec.  "However, I have one additional errand to do while in Boston, and were I to leave before General Washington's arrival, my men would be extremely resentful.  Do you know where the captured British horses are?"

     "They had many on Boston Common, and others near Charles Town.  Why, do you need some for your men?"

     "Not exactly.  We'll be taking a ship to Quebec, so we don't need horses.  But one of my men currently in Philadelphia is related to a parson in Charles Town.  He was complaining that his relative loaned a horse to Paul Revere before the Battle of Lexington, and the Brits captured the horse."

     "You mean John Larkin!  I know him fairly well.  Mr. Dawes and I were involved with Mr. Revere in warning of the British army's move on Lexington.  Now you want one of the horses to give to Deacon Larkin to make up for the loss?  That should not be a problem.  I remember he gave Mr. Revere his second best horse, a roan, because his best was ill with bloat."  Prescott obtained some paper from an aide accompanying him, and wrote out an order to release any horse he desired to Major Felbach.  "Now I have some questions for you.  You never answered the question I asked you after the last enemy advance on the hill was smashed, where you got those demonic weapons of yours?  And this business with the horse raises another question.  The battle of Lexington was scarce ten weeks ago.  How could your soldier in Philadelphia have heard of the loss of the horse, and gotten the complaint back to you in such a short time?"

      Felbach mentally cursed.  "We have a very efficient message service.  As for the weapons, we brought them with us from Long Island.  I'm not allowed to discuss them further except to say that they are extremely limited in number.  I must beg your forgiveness at not answering fully, because you've been extremely gracious and helpful under trying circumstances."  Prescott took this as gracefully as he could, but clearly was not very satisfied.  "Would you at least explain your reference to butterflies when we found General Gage dead?"  

     "I was thinking of some lectures we got during training from a former history professor named Shenberg.  We were told to take care in what we did, because even the beating of a butterfly's wings could have an effect on history."

     "A remarkable concept.  Your professor must be a deep thinker to rank with those German philosophers we hear about."  Prescott turned and left.

     On the second day after the battle, Felbach and his group went to one of the former British paddocks, and after considerable discussion, selected the best looking horse they could find, a bay stallion standing 15 hands.  Felbach had already obtained directions to the home of  John Larkin.  They walked up to it, and  knocked on the door.  A man came around from the back of the house.  "What may I do for you?"

    "Indeed?  The proper title is 'Deacon', but I am he."

     "Replacement?"

     "A relative of yours complained that you lost your second best horse to the Brits after you loaned it to Paul Revere before the Battle of Lexington.  I figured that before we left town we could make him and you happy by replacing the missing beast."

     "What relative of mine told you this?  'Tis true, but I had hardly been overly public in complaining.  While the British still controlled our town it would not have been wise.  And I have the added burthen that my father was so unwise as to fire on Howe's troops.  They burned his house, and now I have father living with me temporarily."

     "But who is this relative who told you?"

     "I know him not, 'tho I have an infant son named Thomas Oliver."  

     "I don't believe he has ever met you, but he somehow heard about the horse.  Are you refusing it?"

     "Nay," said the Deacon with a smile at what he clearly felt was a witty pun.  "I'll gladly accept a horse that looks to be worth fifty or sixty pounds."

     Felbach quickly ended a conversation he feared might have him revealing too much, and marched his men off to prepare for participation in the events surrounding Washington's arrival, following which they would embark for Quebec.

     Rakim Green was leading eight NSMA troops and a dozen former slaves in a new raid.  The plantation they were examining under a bright full moon was owned by a prominent Patriot, since they were running out of Tory-owned slaves.  The plantation covered hundreds of acres, and was worked by over 200 slaves.  Green's group had been in touch with several of the slaves for months.  Because so many slaves had vanished off North Carolina plantations in recent years, and because the anti-British Regulators had been so active, white guards had been hired by many of the wealthier Tories, and even, as here, Patriots.  These guards were moving about on horseback and afoot, carrying muskets and additionally armed with pistols and nasty looking large knives.  Two guards seemed to be hanging around the area where the group hoped to bring out the slaves.  Green waved to two former cadets.  They snaked their way to the guards, and in swift motions garrotted each.  The entire group moved towards the slave quarters, wretched, tiny log cabins.  Once the slaves were freed and on their way the manor house would have been burned had this been a Tory plantation.

******************************************************************************

from Lt. Larkin at Philadelphia

     "Yesterday John Dickinson got the fools in the Continental Congress to pass by two votes a resolution he called the Olive Branch Petition, a peace plea addressed to the King in which he proposed a sort of semi-independence for America under the crown, but with our own Parliament.   As I remember what Prof. Shenberg said, the King will refuse even to look at this, so I guess no great harm was done.  Congress is just receiving first word of what happened at Boston.  I guess Major Felbach had quite an impact, and we all wish him well in Quebec.  

     "A fellow named Robert Hare has started a business here  making the best beer I've tasted in this century.  If you are very lucky he may export some to Long Island.  Now if they just had a good method of chilling it in the summertime.

     "We've received our second delivery of three howitzers.  They are being emplaced, like the first battery, where they will defend approaches to the city.

     "It's fortunate that we were given smallpox inoculations before being sent here.  There has been a minor outbreak in Philly.  They have some equivalent called variolation which does not seem to be too effective.  I really wish we could at least introduce some simple advanced medicine like vaccination."

"October 13, 1775

Lt. Larkin Reporting

     "Word of Capt. Green's successes in driving Tories and redcoats from most of North Carolina have had a big impact here.  Unfortunately, not all was favorable.  A South Carolina delegate introduced a motion today to order all blacks immediately discharged from military service and returned to their owners if known, or auctioned off with proceeds to the Treasury if owners are unknown, or if the owners are Tories.  This was defeated, but drew support from all of South Carolina's delegates, most of Georgia's, and quite a few from North Carolina, Virginia, and a few from other states.  An alternative motion that would give any blacks who perform military service land west of the Mississippi at the end of the war was passed.

    "An Isaac Smith of Bucks County was in town.  In speaking with him about the South Carolina motion (which drew a lot of comment with the local citizenry here), he indicated the Quaker community is ready to denounce slavery.  A good man, but you should see the gaudy pink decorated wallet he carries!"

"February 1, 1776

To NSMA Headquarters

     "We now have two batteries of three howitzers each in place.  One overlooks the entrance to New York Harbor from Grymes Hill.  The other covers the entrance to Arthur Kill, the waterway between Staten Island and New Jersey, from Tottenville.  These are quite inadequate if the British attack in August in the numbers expected.  We are training some local militia in the operation of the howitzers, since the number of British attackers expected means we may be overrun.  There should be someone left who knows how to operate the things.  I designed some booby traps to discourage attackers.  A few miles of barbed wire would be a big help.

     "Regrettably, a rather high percentage of the local populace appears to be Tory in their sympathies.  We're working on that as best we can.  Copies of the recently published pamphlet 'Common Sense' are helpful propaganda.  The communications tower which will extend cell phone and radio communications to Staten Island should be completed within two weeks.

     "Some help is coming from off-island.  A Colonel Herd in New Jersey sent an aide, William Gifford, to offer a regiment.  I'll post them near the south end of the Island.  Also, a Brit calling himself Lord Stirling contacted the Committee of Safety.  He claims to serve under Israel Putnam, and to have a brigade.  I'll try to post them along the north and eastern shores or on the Brooklyn shoreline facing us."

"March 1, 1775

To NSMA Headquarters

      "The population, garrison, and Governor Browne continue their friendly attitude.  We are facing our second commercial crop of oranges and grapefruit, and hope for a first commercially-sized crop of pineapple.  We have given the head of the garrison and the Governor shares in our marketing corporation, making them very cooperative.  Experiments with locally produced rum suggest that mixed drinks using our crops will be very popular.  Governor Montfort Browne was so enthused that he offered to arrange for the importation of one thousand slaves to increase production.  I explained very carefully and courteously how grateful we were for the offer and why we could not accept.  He seems a bit startled at the concept of ending slavery, but is so addicted to a rum-pineapple juice-coconut cream concoction that he was easily distracted from worrying about it.  When he tires of that drink I'll introduce him to rum with lime."

To:  NSMA Headquarters

Nassau, Bahamas, Capt. R. Darcy, Commanding

   A couple days after we got the Governor to switch allegiance, a ship of the Revolutionary Navy sailed into the harbor, commanded by a Samuel Nicholas.  We managed to stop them from shooting up the place, loaded them with supplies, including some weaponry, and sent them on to the island of  St. Vincent.  A combination of slaves and Carib Indians were planning a rising.  We figured we would give the self-proclaimed Republic of Hairoun a boost, and tie up a few units of the British Army.

    October 21, 1775 was a chilly but clear morning as General Washington rode out of his Brooklyn headquarters with three aides and four bodyguards.  The General felt that he had the defense of Brooklyn well started.  After visiting Boston, he had stopped to consult with Col. Samuel Browne at New Salem in Connecticut.  Defenses there seemed well in hand, and trade with the Caribbean continued successfully.  The British were not expected in New York until the summer.  With the pressure off momentarily, he decided the time was ripe for investigating this mysterious installation on the North Shore of Long Island.  The small group stopped overnight in  Flushing, where Washington checked on defenses, and had an interesting discussion with the Quakers on religious freedom.  The next day they started early along the North Road, and were at the boundaries of the time slip shortly before noon.

     An armed guard waved the group down.  "Halt.  Who are you and where are you---Oh, my God!!!  General Washington, Sir!"  The guard snapped to attention and gave one of the sharpest salutes Washington had ever seen.  

     Washington acknowledged the salute, and said "We are looking for North Shore Military Academy.  Can you direct us?"

     "Better than that, sir."  The guard handed Washington a map, and indicated their current location on it as well as the route to take.

     As the group approached a large, French mansard-style building, two more guards stepped out.  One with corporal stripes said, "General Washington, sir, your horses can be stabled here," gesturing to a new building to the right of the paved road.  "They will be curried, fed, and watered."

     The group dismounted, and turned the reins over.  The guards took the name of each rider, and wrote it on a card, which was tucked into the saddle of each horse.  Washington noted without comment that when Casimir de Pulaski gave his name the corporal looked startled, but did not ask how to spell it.  His secretary's name drew a far greater response from both guards, as they turned to stare at the young man.  Why, Washington wondered, would someone a couple months shy of his nineteenth birthday draw such interest?

     The second cadet, apparently a private from his lack of any stripes, said, "General Washington, sir, meeting you guys is the most unique thing that's ever happened to me."

     The corporal said, "Joey, shut up!"

     Washington smiled.  "I am not at all offended, although I find the concept of a modifier applied to unique in itself unique." 

     The group led by Washington walked through an arch and found themselves in a cobblestoned courtyard.  Ranks of several hundred cadets were standing around three sides, with a band nearest to where Washington stood.  Facing the cadets were two groups, one of three cadets of apparently high rank and the other of seven adults, two in unfamiliar uniforms,  one a woman.  Other men and women stood off to one side.  As Washington's group entered, one of the three cadets in front called out, "Battalion, present arms."  The band then played an unfamiliar tune while all raised their rifles in a salute.

     At the conclusion of the music, the seven adults walked over to Washington and his group.  "General Washington, sir.  I am Colonel Gryffyth, Commandant of North Shore Military Academy.  With me are Mr. Rolandson, Headmaster, and his Assistant Headmaster, Mr. Mendham, and my Assistant Commandant, Captain Bacon.  Our Dean of Faculty, Jan Bavny.  Judge Joseph X. Casey.  This is Prof. Sheila Shenberg."  Washington noted Rolandson was rather rotund, and not very tall.  Mendham was nearly Washington's own height, and rather lean.  Gryffyth also was lean, but only a bit taller than Rolandson.  Bavny (odd name, he thought) was close to Mendham's height, but where Mendham had an oval face, Bavny's was decidedly square, and Bavny was easily 25 years the younger.  Casey looked well fed, and smelled strongly of tobacco smoke.  Shenburg's garb was the oddest, including a remarkably short skirt.

     Washington introduced the people with him, and thanked Gryffyth for the welcome on all their behalfs.  Again his young secretary and de Pulaski seemed to draw extra attention.

     Rolandson said, "You've had a long journey, and are probably tired and hungry.  We assigned a suite of rooms for you, and a banquet is planned.  Would you like to see the rooms and rest now, or would you have time for a parade and review of the battalion before eating?  We will accommodate whatever might be your wishes."

     "We stayed last night at the home of Francis Lewis in Flushing, so our journey has not been overlong.  I am subject to your suggestions."  Washington noted a reaction from all seven to the name of Francis Lewis.  The woman--a professor?!?--seemed amused.

     After further discussion it was decided to show Washington's group to their rooms.  The banquet would start in an hour, and the parade and review would be scheduled for the next morning.  Gryffyth introduced the battalion staff, a major, captain adjutant and Sergeant/Major Hall.  The last of these was assigned as their personal escort.  They entered the enormous  building and found themselves in a large foyer with a double staircase curving to the left and right upwards.  As Washington looked around, he saw that the walls on the left listed past battalion commanders and adjutants, while the right listed valedictorians and salutatorians.  A line between each pair of entries, where one might have expected the year to be shown, was covered, except for the last five entries, which gave 1771 through 1775.

     Up the stairs, and to the left they were shown Rolandson's office.  Washington found the style of furnishings a bit odd, but certainly tasteful and probably expensive.  A couple objects in the office were unknown to him, but the group was whisked from there across the hall before he could examine any.  Their guide waved to the right, "Down there is the mess hall, but the banquet is being set up in the gymnasium, which is the room in front of us."  He opened a door, and Washington saw a very large room with people working madly to set up tables and chairs.  "We'd better leave them alone, so they can get ready."

     "You ran into a guard down on the turnpike, sir?"

     "He warned us that you were coming.  You never saw so much running around to get ready.  Lucky you weren't riding anything faster than horses, or we would never have had a chance."  On that peculiar comment, the sergeant/major led them to a suite of rooms.  "Before I leave you, let me show you how to use some of the things in here that may be unfamiliar.  First, note this switch on the wall."  The guide touched it.  The room brightened, as glass globes on the ceiling suddenly lit up.  "You'll need to use those towards evening.  Much better than candles," he grinned at their startlement.  "Next the bathroom."  He opened a door to the left.  He showed them how to use a sink, shower, and toilet.  "If you had all that available in the field, it would cut down on disease a whole lot."

     One of Washington's aides frowned.  "All this macaroni is quite nice, but what does it have to do with disease?"

     The banquet was much as Washington feared from recent experience, with speeches from more people than he could remember, and all of them saying little that was original or useful.  To top it off, a Mrs. Healey was seated between him and his secretary.  She gave the youth a few remarks, but quickly noted he was mostly staring at a girl wearing corporal's stripes.  Her attention consequently was primarily directed to Washington himself, as she kept gushing all over him with silly comments and questions.  Once she referred to him as "President Washington".  Taking advantage of this to say a few words, Washington responded, "No Madam, I am but a simple delegate to the Continental Congress.  The honor of President lies with Payton Randolph.  I am but a General, by the action of that same body."  Later he was vastly amused to catch her whispering to Rolandson, "Who is Payton Randolph?"  Rolandson just shrugged.

     After the banquet, Sergeant/Major Hall took Washington's companions on an extended tour, while Gryffyth somehow isolated Washington, and said, "We've had long discussions on whether and how to introduce you to what you're about to learn.  I don't know if this is the best, but it's what we settled on."

     "I shall be most grateful for any explanations!"  On that note Gryffyth led Washington to a portion of the second floor he had not yet seen.  

     "This is our planetarium, and I'ld like to recommend that you observe and hold any questions for the end."

     Washington entered a most peculiar room.  It was circular, with padded benches for seating.  The covering of the padding somewhat resembled leather, but was of an unfamiliar material.  The room appeared to be about eight yards in diameter.  The ceiling was a dome painted white in contrast to the walls, which were black.  In the center of the room was a strange looking machine, two bluish globes with metallic connections between.  On the machine was written the word "Minolta", which meant nothing to him.  Washington sat, staring around.  Unfamiliar music played, while on the dome glowing letters appeared.

                       ALUMNI  MEMORIAL PLANETARIUM

 

                                               of  the

                      NORTH SHORE  MILITARY  ACADEMY       

         

       presented  by  the  Alumni  Association  of  NSMA,  Sept. 15, 1998

     Washington was wondering how they made the glowing writing appear when the meaning of the date suddenly struck him.  But before he could react the music and the writing both faded away.  The dome was now blue, and a glowing ball on it was drifting slowly to his right.  A disembodied voice said, "In the west we can see the Sun setting.  In the planetarium we have dimmed the Sun to make it safe to look at, and we also have speeded up time.  As the Sun sets you can see a red glow, the twilight, which is simply sunlight peeking around the edge of the Earth.  As the twilight fades, the Moon, some planets, and the stars become visible."  Washington gazed in awe at the astonishing sight of the night sky brought indoors with such verisimilitude.

     The voice went on, "While we all have seen the Moon in the night sky with our eyes, we all know that you could see the Moon a lot better in a telescope."  Suddenly on the side of the dome there appeared the image of a telescope mounted on a tripod.  "When you look through a telescope, it makes distant objects such as the Moon look closer."  A cartoonish figure appeared next to the telescope.  It bent at a ridiculous angle to look through the eyepiece.  "In a telescope the Moon looks like this."  High on the dome appeared a circular picture of a portion of the Moon.  Where the figure was cartoonish and apparently deliberately crudely drawn, Washington was impressed by the fine detail of the sketch of the Moon.  

      The voice went on to describe craters and mountains on the Moon, and a red arrow appeared which pointed out each of the features being described.  "However, we all know that the best way to study the Moon is not merely to look at it, but to go there."  On the side of the dome the telescope and cartoon figure vanished, and were replaced with a rocket.  The rocket ascended into the sky and faded from sight.  Completely around the dome Washington found  himself surrounded by gray hills and valleys, giant rocks and small pits.  A very strange four legged machine descended and landed.  Two men with their heads encased in globes and their bodies in canvas (?) suits crawled out of the upper level and climbed down a ladder.  A very different voice said, "Houston, Tranquility Base here.  The Eagle has landed."  The original voice came back.  "July 20, 1969, the first men landed on the Moon."

     Washington stood up and turned to face Rolandson, Gryffyth and Shenberg.  "All right, what is this all about?  You certainly are trying to convince me of something.  I just can't believe what it seems to be."

     "You people are--I beg your pardon, but I feel like a fool just saying it--from the future."

     Shenberg said, "You are no fool.  We were living in the year 2009 when something we don't understand swept us back to 1770."

     "Worse than that.  One of the big political issues was whether or not to send people to Mars."

     There didn't seem to be much in the way of an adequate response to that.  After a moment Washington said, "What are you people trying to accomplish?"

     "We are trying to accomplish a couple goals."  Gryffyth took over.  "How long do you think this war will last?"

     "I have told my wife and others, including the Continental Congress, I don't expect it to take much more than six months."

     "The war will end with the signing of the Treaty of Paris in 1783, although most fighting will end with the surrender of Cornwallis at Yorktown in 1781."

     "One of our goals is to end the war as quickly as possible without excessive interference.  Americans developed a very strong self-confidence from winning the war.  For that reason, we're only getting involved in major battles where Americans lost.  What happened in Boston went well beyond our expectations.  If outside interference such as ours becomes known, the consequences could be disastrous, and as Boston shows we have to be exceedingly cautious.  We also hope to influence the postwar results in such a way as to reduce certain problems in America's history--or future from your point of view."

     "A Civil War killing a million Americans, and certain gross injustices to different groups.  For very good reasons I won't get more specific."

      "For now you're the only one.  One other American will be told, one of your fellow Virginians, but not for a few years.  He doesn't need to know yet."

     "Well, it's not really important, in fact it was just an accident, but the Bahamas were supposed to be raided, not annexed.  Wait," Gryffyth turned to Rolandson and Shenberg.  "Let's let him read Sgt. Palmer's report on Ticondaroga."

     This was agreed to, and the group started for Rolandson's office.  On the way, Washington said, "In this future of yours, is a phrasing such as 'most unique' permitted in the English of your day?"

     Rollandson winced.  "Definitely not proper.  I assume you heard one of our cadets using such language?"

     "Yes, but think nothing of it.  The young are still learning, are they not?"

     Fortunately, they arrived at Rollandson's office, forestalling further discussion.  A safe was opened.  Rolandson took out a paper and handed it to Washington.

Sgt. M. L. Palmer reporting

After three years in Vermont I have found four young women willing to be recruited, and with the talents needed.  All are literate to at least tenth grade level, can handle the primitive rifles these people have" (Washington winced) "and have learned some basic karate."

        "A form of wrestling designed for use in warfare.  Just read the report through and ask questions later, please."

      "We linked up with Ethan Allen's crowd on their march to take Fort Ticondaroga, and attacked two days ago.  But, hey, nobody warned me that lowlife son of a bitch Benedict Arnold would show up in Vermont.  And with a commission from the Continental Congress, yet.  He and Allen got into a squabble over who was in charge, and they were still arguing right up to the door of old Fort Ti.  Is this an example of one of Shenberg's butterflies, or did you goof in not warning me?  Anyhow, Ethan Allen did not demand the surrender of the fort in the name of Jehovah, Zeus, or Buddha either.  Allen and Arnold both tried to be the first one through the door.  Arnold won, and the bastard almost fell over a guard, sound asleep inside!  The fort fell without a shot being fired.  So we did not get a chance to counter contemporary bias with some macho stunts."

     Washington sighed.  "I have almost more questions than there are words in this report.  What is this reference to Jehovah and Zeus?"

     Rolandson smiled.  "There's a legend that Ethan Allen demanded the fort's surrender 'in the name of the great God Jehovah and the Continental Congress.'  It always seemed dubious, since Congress didn't recognize or admit Vermont, and if he did all that shouting, the guard likely wouldn't have been asleep."

     Rolandson and Gryffyth both turned and looked at Shenberg.  She took a deep breath and said, "Mary Louise Palmer graduated NSMA in 1772 as a champion athlete, as well as a sergeant.  Benedict Arnold will try to sell West Point to the British, and his name even in the Twenty First Century is a synonym for treason."

     "I believe I  no longer have any wish for more of this to be explained, even the words I am not familiar with, and I am certain I know now why you are staying secret."

     Washington rejoined his companions, and evaded all their attempts to find out what had been discussed.  Instead he quizzed them on what they had been doing, which was mostly a tour of the classrooms and other facilities.  The following morning they had the promised parade and review, with Washington awarding a ribbon to B company as the alleged best.  As Washington and his companions mounted up to return to Brooklyn, his secretary said to Gryffyth, "I hope to return here some day and learn more."

      Gryffyth graciously responded that he would always be welcome, while thinking to himself that he hoped never again to see any Eighteenth Century citizens anywhere near NSMA.

     "One thing I would have explained is the workings of those glowing glass balls by which you illuminated our rooms last night.  Ah, well, for now we have a war to occupy our thoughts."  He rode off with his group, completely unaware of the effect of his words on Gryffyth, and on Rolandson, who was standing nearby.

     Gryffyth said, "We need a meeting right now with Shenberg and whoever was escorting those bozos."

     Sergeant/Major Hall was in Rolandson's office facing the Inquisition.  "Did you show the lighting system to Washington's group?"

     "Yes, sir.  My orders were to show them their suite and explain anything they needed to know."

     "Well, sir, the rooms don't have a radio or TV or even a computer link.  Nobody said anything about the lights, and they weren't provided with a lantern or candles."

      "Of all the bloody, blooming, blithering idiots ..."  Gryffyth's expostulation faded into incoherence.

     Shenberg said, "The damage is done.  Only a few people have seen it, and they've got bigger problems on their minds.  We have to make plans that this won't happen again."

     "I've been thinking, the country club has sat vacant since we got here.  How about if we strip it of all incriminating materials, such as electric outlets, lamps, computer, TV, books and magazines, refrigerator, and whatever else.  Then we fix it up as an inn for visitors.  If anyone in the group that just left spreads rumors, we just show people the inn."

     "Oh, please, do you really think everyone in the Eighteenth Century lived in log cabins?  Washington's Mount Vernon and Jefferson's Monticello were a long way from log cabins.  The country club looks a bit odd by current standards and tastes, but that will just go towards explaining any strange rumors that our recent visitors spread.  Maybe someone can install some sort of glass balls around where candles are placed."

     "It was just a thought, but you've got an historically prominent person wandering around thinking about light bulbs, and maybe discussing them with everyone he meets."

     Gryffyth shook his head.  "I don't think Washington himself will say anything, but the others have no real reason to keep quiet even if he orders them to shut up.  He's only a kid now, but imagine the mischief if the Secretary of the Treasury decided to encourage Franklin or someone else to invent electric lights."

     Rolandson said thoughtfully, "Washington is the commanding general.  And Sheila's suggestion about using the country club is a good one.  Maybe our science teachers can come up with something on the glowing glass ball question to confuse or distract the issue.  I say we go with it.  If it becomes necessary, we can discourage others the way we did Washington."

      Bacon said, "Electric lights aren't going to be a problem much longer.  We're almost out of light bulbs."

     The others looked variously startled or shocked.  Mendham said, "I sort of had that worry in the back of my mind, but I'd never thought to check.  What do we do?"

     Gryffyth shook his head.  "Reinventing a workable light bulb would be a bitch.  You've got to have a metal filament that glows, plus a metal base that conducts electricity and has the exact same co-efficient of expansion when heated as the glass part of the bulb.  All our limited capacity has to go for war related materials."

     Rolandson said in a worried tone, "Our building wasn't designed for the limited light from candles, and we've no sources available for gas light.  The people who came back with us are going to be very unhappy.  Remember all the bitching we got when people realized they couldn't keep using their cars?"

     Gryffyth said, "Our cadets and teachers will have to live with the light problem.  But," turning to Shenburg, "how do you think the civilians will respond to this new problem?"

     "Some, like Mrs. Healey, are going to complain loudly and often.  She'll probably demand you drop everything and produce light bulbs out of a hat.  I think our best bet would be to distract the complainers by asking them to help make candles.  At least TVs will still work, but people better be warned things wear out.  Any family with more than one TV should be advised to keep the extras for when the first one fails."

     Dan Howard suddenly snickered.  "I can see it now.  Romantic candle-lit evenings watching DVD reruns of old Seinfeld and NYPD Blue shows."

     The group consulted with the school's science teachers, who suggested that in Pennsylvania oil was actually leaking to the surface in some spots.  If this could be refined, oil lamps were possible.  Unfortunately, refining the oil turned out to be impossible, not to mention transportation difficulties in the midst of a war.  As the light bulbs died, the sole temporary solution was candles.  The science teachers tried to experimentally create new light bulbs, but tungsten was unavailable.  Finally they went with carbonized cotton for filaments, and had very dim bulbs.

     About three months after Gen. Washington's visit a courier carrying a package arrived from Philadelphia.  In the package were commissions from the Continental Congress designating Gryffyth as a Brigadier General, his assistant and Dan Howard as Colonels.  A long list of alumni and the neighbors who had been in the National Guard were also given formal commissions from the Continental Congress.  Neighbors were invited to the ceremony at which Rolandson pinned on Gryffyth's star in front of the entire battalion.  Gryffyth then pinned on the badges of rank for the neighbors and others present who had been commissioned.

     NSMA now began to organize for the expected British attempt to take New York.  While General Howe, who would have been in command, was dead, the British had plenty of generals.  The occupation was expected to begin with the gathering of over one hundred ships in New York Harbor.  Troops were aboard many, and these would be off loaded to occupy Staten Island and Brooklyn.  Col. Howard was placed in general command of NSMA forces in the harbor area, with Crespino commanding Staten Island, Capt. Hardy commanding mounted troops and artillery in Brooklyn, Lt. Franks in Manhattan, and Lt. Wallace in New Jersey, also with both artillery and mounted.  Radio and surviving cell phones kept everyone in touch with Howard and with NSMA.  Crespino had five batteries of three howitzers each, Hardy had three batteries, and  Wallace had four batteries.  Franks had none, as it was felt that if the British fleet got past theother installations, Manhattan was sure to fall anyway.

      Franks' main jobs were to keep an eye out for spies and to guard against an unexpected drive on Manhattan from the north or directly across the Hudson from New Jersey, assuming Herd and Wallace failed to stop them.  In case that did not keep Franks and his troops busy, they chased Governor William Tryon, who had been transferred from North Carolina by the King, out of Manhattan.  Tryon, who had never had the pleasure of living in the new North Carolina Palace being built in New Bern, now was forced to govern what little part of New York he still controlled from Poughkeepsie.

"November 5, 1775

Lt. Perkins reporting

The mounting of five of our howitzers aboard the Congress and two on the frigate Liberty (formerly HMS Glasgow) has been spectacularly successful.  We sailed past the tip of Cornwall yesterday, and spotted three ships of the British Navy.  They headed over to check us out, or perhaps identified our flags through a spyglass.  In any case, we and the Liberty let loose, and all three were hit in the second or third try by incendiary shells.  They got off a few cannon balls, but none came near us.  We stood off and watched all three burn to the waterline, then grabbed a trading ship, which will be on its way to you with a prize crew.  Capt. Paul ordered a ration of rum distributed to everyone on both our ships as a celebration."

       The two ships next approached the coastal town of Brighton.  Each lobbed half a dozen incendiary shells into the town, and sailed off, leaving Brighton in flames.  Next was Worthing.  As they approached it, a small boat was seen sailing towards them.  A man in front was waving what through a spyglass was clearly a white sheet.  They held off firing and permitted the boat to approach.

     "My name is Maurice Robinson.  I have been sent to offer you a ransom for not harming our town."

     The Captain turned and said to the men near him, "How charming.  A ransom so we will not do unto them as they have done unto us.  Shall we accept?"

     Lt. Perkins said, "I would certainly recommend accepting.  The ransom will impoverish them while leaving us the ammunition to lay waste another town."  Most of the men nearby laughed and agreed this was an excellent idea.

     Paul leaned over the railing and shouted back at Robinson, "What sort of ransom do you offer?"

     A bosun snarled "A miserable ransom for a wretched place.  I say take the ransom and then burn the town."

     "Nay," responded Paul, "that were dishonorable.  If we accept ransom, we go elsewhere.  Half the ransom shall be shared among the sailors of our two ships, and half shall be returned to the Continental Congress for the national treasury."  He leaned over the railing again, and shouted, "Your offer is accepted.  How do we collect this ransom?"

     Robinson instructed them to tie up to a nearby dock, and the money and food would be brought there.  Without hesitation, Paul ordered the smaller ship to the dock to receive the ransom, while his own ship stood off shore ready to fire should any tricks or attacks occur.

     For two weeks after the ships ravaged the English coast, burning towns that failed to offer ransom, and seizing shipping to send home with prize crews.  A dozen warships were damaged or destroyed.  Finally, with shells for the howitzers nearly used up, the ships headed back to America.

"January 2, 1776

Maj. Beaudoin reporting

     "The situation here is a total mess, thanks to General Montgomery being a pig-headed fool.  We had gotten the locals so well converted that after a strictly pro forma defense, the American forces would have been welcomed, with the ranking Catholic cleric serving as a go- between.  Montgomery announced he would have no truck with papists, and on New Year's Eve attacked in the middle of a raging blizzard.  Lt. Col. Felbach was killed by a cannon shot.  Major General Benedict Arnold also died, with at least four bullets in his back.  Montgomery has wrecked five years of our efforts to convince the French locals to accept us."

     The guiding group at NSMA held a hurried meeting.  Shenberg argued that this disaster was inevitable, and the troops should be ordered to leave Canada.  Gryffyth felt that leaving in the middle of winter was out of the question, and in any case this would be an open invitation for the British to return, and try to reconquer the States from the north.  Rolandson finally bought that argument, and Maj. Beaudoin was ordered to do his best to correct the situation.  

     Five days later Beaudoin reported that an unknown sniper had killed Gen. Montgomery.  Beaudoin took command, and started rebuilding confidence in the French population.  They were presented with an invitation to send a delegation to the Continental Congress, with a promise of equal status there.  But the British Governor General, Sir Guy Carleton, was nearly freed from his POW holding cell by a raid.  This was beaten back with some loss of life.  Gradually Beaudoin began to win over some of the population.  His French name and Catholic religion helped.  By April he had the locals elect a delegation to attend the Continental Congress.

"July 5, 1776

1st Lt. O. Larkin Commanding

     The Continental Congress yesterday approved Jefferson's draft of a Declaration of Independence.  Franklin made a few stylistic changes, and the Quebec delegation asked for an insertion of language on religious freedom and what I guess we would call preservation of a traditional language.  The South Carolina and Georgia delegations got into a fit because Jefferson had included language that made permitting slavery one of the complaints against the King.  I thought our people down there were supposed to keep pro-slavery creeps off the delegation.  What the hell went wrong?  Anyhow, one of our people, as I'm sure you heard, represented the Bahamas.  The anti-slavery language was toned down to the point where S.C. and Georgia grudgingly accepted it, and the whole thing is being printed, and will be generally distributed for reading to the public.  As a gesture to the Quebecois, a French language version was also approved."

     Regulators were freely striking at British military installations throughout North Carolina, while slave restiveness had all plantations in disarray.  Raids and sabotage made New Bern almost unlivable, with little food coming into town except by boat, and even they frequently had to run a gauntlet of gunfire.  Governor Josiah Martin finally fled to London, abandoning his almost completed new Palace.  The road west from Green's headquarters near Hillsborough had a nearly continuous stream of escaping slaves.

     Meanwhile, defenses for New York Harbor were further developed, but finally the day came when observers at Sandy Hook radioed sighting the returning British fleet.  The ships stood out to sea far enough to make a definite count difficult, but Shenberg said the historical record indicated 131 ships would ultimately arrive, under the command of Admiral Richard Howe, brother of the general killed at Bunker Hill (there had been a third brother, who died in the French and Indian War).

     On the morning of August 2, 1776, the British fleet split into three columns.  One headed for Brooklyn.  A second headed through the Narrows for Manhattan.  The third headed for "the watering place", a stretch of Staten Island better known to the NSMA group as Tompkinsville.  Col. Howard ordered Crespino to split his fire between the second and third columns.  Capt. Hardy was to try to discourage the Brooklyn landing.

     Before Hardy's nine howitzers could begin firing, the British ships headed for Gravesend, just past the western end of Coney Island.  Unfortunately, he was set up in Bay Ridge, over three miles from their destination.  Hardy swiftly commanded the howitzers hitched to horses.  Other horses got cartloads of ammunition.  He raced the ships, and got as far as the Bath Beach shoreline as the ships went to anchor, and began lowering skiffs loaded with soldiers.  "This will have to do," Hardy yelled to his men.  "Batteries one and two, use anti-personnel shells and aim for the skiffs.  Battery three, incendiary shells, aim for the ships."  With twenty ships little more than a mile away, each unloading a couple dozen skiffs, there was no shortage of targets.

     As Hardy's command began firing, the British woke up, and returned fire from their cannon.  Each of the twenty ships could easily bring thirty or more cannon to bear, and their range was equal to the mile and a half distance.  Hardy put all his non-artillery personnel to work trying to erect some dirt walls for protection.  The area was fairly heavily wooded, so the British could not see precisely where the Americans were located.  Two British ships were hit by incendiaries.  They burst into flame across their decks, and fire ran up their rigging to engulf the sails.  Gunpowder aboard one exploded, leaving a gaping hole near the bow.  Flaming pieces flew through the air, striking another ship.  Some of the debris landed on two skiffs loaded with soldiers.  Six of the howitzers were firing anti-personnel shells, which were basically small explosives with lots of shrapnel.  Any skiff near one that exploded was suddenly turned into a butchery of red blood, meat, and bones.

     A misaimed anti-personnel shell struck the foremast of a ship.  The foremast buckled and broke off.  The deck of the ship was suddenly populated only by shredded body parts.  Another ship burst into flame.  Hardy heard screams, too loud to come from the attackers.  He looked around.  A lucky cannonball had caught two men working on constructing a barricade.  One of them was still alive, but he had only one leg.  "Corpsman, over there" he commanded, pointing.

     Two skiffs were almost at the shore.  Hardy directed two howitzers to shift their aim.  It took a total of four shots, but pieces of the shattered skiffs and their shattered cargo drifted in the reddening waves.  A cannonball struck and demolished a howitzer.  Clearly one of the ships had them targeted.  Hardy identified it as the Roebuck.  Five shots later, it was engulfed in flames from hits amidships and at the port bow.  Nine of twenty ships were now in flames.  Gunpowder on two had exploded.

     The eleven remaining ships of the British fleet suddenly began to swing out to sea.  They headed away from shore and eastward, along the coastline of Coney Island.  Hardy let out a long breath.  A quick check showed his seven surviving howitzers averaged only about six shells remaining for each.  The enemy had broken off just before he ran out of ammunition.  He reported by radio to Col. Howard.

     Crespino could not decide whether to laugh or curse.  The ships trying to make it to Manhattan and to Stapleton were helpless against his fire.  His howitzers were mounted more than three hundred feet above sea level, and no ship could elevate its cannon enough to return fire.  Some rifle fire came from the decks and rigging, but it was so intermittent and at such range as to be totally ineffective.  All nine howitzers were using up their supply of incendiaries on sitting ducks, since the ships' progress, even with the tide, was very slow.  The morning, like most Augusts in New York, had almost no breeze, so the motion of the ships was nearly entirely due to the tide.  After ten minutes of pounding, close to thirty ships formerly headed for Manhattan were in flames, including several set afire by secondary explosions on other ships.  The column was breaking up, and trying to divert, whether to Staten Island, Brooklyn, or just out of the harbor was not clear.  This confused action, however, led to two frigates, the Phoenix and the Greyhound, colliding, producing yet more damage.  

     The Staten Island column was the one upsetting Crespino.  Its ships gave up on trying to reach the Watering Place, and were off-loading skiffs wherever they happened to be.  He shifted all but three howitzers to firing anti-personnel shells at the skiffs.  While this took out many of the skiffs, there were so many, and some were being offloaded out of sight from his location, that inevitably soldiers were making it to shore.  He reported this to Col. Howard, who suggested blind firing at South Beach, New Dorp, and the area between.  Three howitzers were set to work on this effort.  Some of Stirling's brigade, and most of Herd's New Jersey troops, moved along the shoreline to fire at the on-coming skiffs.  Conventional cannon pounded the frigate Rose, leaving gaping holes in its hull.  The Rose began to break up and sink.

     Totally unseen in the harbor, and quite unknown to the NSMA crowd, David Bushnell was vigorously pedalling the world's first naval attack submarine, the Turtle.  With a crude periscope and limited oxygen, Bushnell hoped to attach an underwater bomb to the Eagle, the British flagship.  In the confusion of burning ships, shells falling, off-loading skiffs, evasive maneuvering, and striken men in the water, Turtle's periscope went unnoticed.  Bushnell hoped to sink the Eagle, but could not find it in the battle.  He finally settled on a smaller ship, and used the Turtle's mechanical claws to attach his incendiary bomb.  Mission accomplished, he headed back to Manhattan, to be picked up by friends.

     Hardy got word from a spotter that the eleven ships surviving from the Gravesend attack joined by another dozen ships were now attacking Sheepshead Bay at the opposite end of Coney Island, and offloading troops there.  Hardy ordered all but three NSMA graduates to mount horses.  The remaining three, together with some local troops, were left to guard the howitzers, and fire them at any British ships that might wander into range.  A regular cavalry unit plus what Hardy spontaneously dubbed the NSMA dragoons headed for Sheepshead Bay across a flat landscape of large farms and scattered forested areas.

     Back at NSMA Shenberg said, "This time we bit off more than we can handle.  Historically they landed over thirty thousand troops on Staten Island, and probably more in Brooklyn.  Now look at the mess we're in.  We should have stood back and let them occupy New York.  They did anyway, right through to the end of the war, and it never made much of a difference."

     Gryffyth shook his head vigorously.  "No, no.  Look what's happened.  Their navy has already suffered catastrophic losses, and even if they occupy Staten Island, which I agree is quite irrelevant, there's a big difference between the thirty thousand or so you say they would have had there, and the numbers actually reaching shore.  Same with Brooklyn.  The best they can get out of this is a ridiculously expensive Pyrrhic victory that may come close to knocking them out of the war!"

     Bacon added, "You wouldn't want them driving the American forces out of Long Island.  If that happened, we'd have to defend ourselves here."

     Capt. Hardy and his "dragoons" (they were already calling themselves "Hardy's 'goons") galloped down Kings Highway, but now it was swinging to the Northeast, and he did not want to meet the invaders too far inland.  The area was too flat for a good defense, nor did they know exactly what route the invaders would take.  A company of Maryland troops placed at Hardy's disposal by Washington were ordered to advance to meet up with the dragoons, while flankers were sent out to try to find the British troops and determine their inland route.  Col. Williams, commanding a New England regiment, recognized their combat fatigues and weapons from Bunker Hill.  He was sufficiently impressed to agree to Hardy's request to help create the defensive arc.

     On Staten Island Crespino realized he was almost out of ammunition for his howitzers.  He scanned across the remaining British ships with his telescope, seeking the British flagship, the Eagle.  As he began hearing musket fire in the distance, he finally found the Eagle, standing well out from shore.  Signal flags were flying from its ropes.  Crespino ordered the nearest howitzer  to redirect its fire to the Eagle.  Three shots later a gout of flame shot upward from the Eagle's rear deck.  Its rigging quickly joined the conflagration, and within minutes explosions could be seen as stocks of gunpowder exploded.  "That's the last of the Howe brothers" Crespino reported to Col. Howard.  "Unfortunately, it's also just about the last of our ammo for the howitzers."  As if in refutation of this pessimistic remark, a distant frigate erupted.  The Turtle's bomb had worked.  Crespino stared at the flaming wreckage for a moment, wondering what had set off the ship, then turned back to business.

     The British troops in Brooklyn were swinging further west than expected.  Hardy reported this to Howard, who replied, looking at a map, "They probably are figuring on coming up behind the Bay Ridge artillery emplacements, and taking them out from land.  Set your troops in Bensonhurst or Dyker Heights to stop them."

     Hardy placed the infantry under his command in an arc, with the dragoons split into three parts, at each end and the center.  The Brits would, it was hoped, move into the cavity of the arc, where they could be held.  Trenches were dug as quickly as the rather dry soil would permit.

      The British moved slower than expected, organizing troops as their skiffs came ashore, permitting Hardy to get his men in place.  He scattered the NSMA forces among the troops armed with conventional musketry.  Three howitzers with a few shells arrived just ahead of the invasion force.  In many ways the battle was a repeat of what happened outside Boston.  Two thousand British and seven thousand Hessians under the command of Lt. Gen. Heiser lined up with bayonets fixed, ready to fire at about 35 yards from the American lines, but the NSMA rifle fire and howitzers devastated them.  Only two tries were sufficient to end the threat.  A third try was only a feint, while a large force under Col. Donop tried to flank the Americans from the northeast.  The flanks, however, had a shot gun each, and long before the couple dozen shells were used up, Donop's troops withdrew, chased by some of Hardy's cavalry screaming "The 'goons will get you!"

     In the Harbor, the Staten Island howitzers had fallen silent from lack of ammunition, but the British had long since stopped trying to get past them anyhow.  Instead, ships were landing thousands of troops in the Tottenville area under the command of General John Simcoe.  The sole battery in that area had long since fired its quota and been withdrawn, although conventional eighteenth century cannon in the area continued to fire.  New Jersey based troops under the command of Col. Herd battled the invaders along the Arthur Kill.  Gradually the weight of numbers began to tell.  Herd had about six hundred men.  The British had landed 8000, mostly Hessian, with some Scots units.

     The shore line facing Brooklyn had hundreds of survivors of the shelling going ashore.  Some were in skiffs, others clung to logs and other material from destroyed ships.  A pitiful few knew how to swim.  New York and Connecticut militias rounded up survivors, and battled skiffs as they approached shore.  Close to two thousand prisoners were taken.  Crespino got a cell phone call from one of the teams rounding up prisoners along the Staten Island shore:  "Captain, we have someone here you ought to check out."

     "Alright, bring him up here."  A quarter hour later Crespino was staring at a kid of about eighteen, soaked, singed, and filthy with tar, powder burns, and mud.  "Just why do I have to waste time on this prisoner?"

     Sgt. Kean replied, "He says his name is Horatio Nelson, so we figured you might want to tell him to stay away from married women."  The privates with Kean laughed.  Nelson just looked wretched.  Crespino gasped and turned on Kean.  "You jackass, keep your fool mouth shut!  If you didn't get enough training in avoiding cutesy comments like that, I'll ship your ass right back to the Academy, where you'll be trained with the rest of the privates."  Turning to the prisoner, he said, "What is your name and rank?"

     The prisoner said, "I'm Midshipman Horatio Nelson.  I'm not really anybody important, and I won't fetch much of a ransom."

     "Don't worry about that.  Our rules of war regard ransom as a crime.  We'll exchange you for one of our prisoners the first chance we get.  And ignore anything these fools may have said to you.  Are you injured?  Do you require any medical attention?"  Upon receiving a negative response,  Crespino sent Kean and his companions back to the shore, and put Nelson under the care of two aides, who had strict orders to avoid making comments.  The aides were joined by two brothers from Staten Island's firebrand Mersereau family, Joshua II and Cornelius.

     Joshua looked at young Nelson.  "I have a son about your age.  Do you think he should be without his father?"

     "Because your people have declared me a rebel and placed a reward of five hundred guineas on my head."

     Nelson's eyes widened at hearing such a reward.  Even the NSMA people stared at Joshua, impressed at such a testimonial from the enemy.  "Surely you jest with me."

     "No, all our family are patriots.  Not too popular on this island of Tories."  He turned to Crespino.  "I know not what value you place on this prisoner, but he appears nigh harmless to me.  Unless you need us here, I would join my elder son in fighting the enemy landings near The Point."

    "'Tis the southernmost part of our Island."

    Crespino nodded, and thought sounds like Tottenville.  I guess that name hasn't been given yet.

     Cornelius added, "I mostly serve as a courier to Col. Herd in NewJersey."    

     Crespino told them to go, his men could handle a single prisoner.   An hour later Nelson disappeared into the forest, not to be seen by Americans again until the surrender of Staten Island.

   The fighting extended into a second and third day without resolution, but Herd's troops were pushed back slowly by the sheer weight of numbers.  New York troops coming from rounding up survivors along the Harbor shoreline secured Herd's flank inland from Arthur Kill, but that was not enough.  His men were gradually being forced back into the swamps at Fresh Kills.  Herd made a decision the fourth day.  Most of his men were slipped back across Arthur Kill to New Jersey under cover of darkness.  William Gifford led a contingent of two dozen volunteers who created enough noise to disguise the escape.  The Hessians and Scots pressed Gifford's group into the swamp.  This was, of course, New York in August.  The small number of colonials did little more than awaken some slumbering mosquitoes.  Nearly eight thousand soldiers were proclaimed the greatest banquet swarms of waiting mosquitoes had ever seen!

     With the enemy tangled in the swamps, Gifford's group was guided  by young Joshua Mersereau III, who, although living some miles away on Staten Island, knew the swamps well from hunting and fishing there.  He first took them out of the swamps and inland to the Bulls Head Tavern, the headquarters of Tory activity on Staten Island.  Gifford's men discharged their weapons into the tavern, from which cries issued.  Gifford called out, "Will you yield?"  A white rag waved out a window in response.  "All will leave the building with their hands in the air, and no weapons among ye."

     Gifford detailed three men to usher the prisoners away.  He had neither means nor desire to hold them, and simply left the dozen who came out of the tavern tied up a couple hundred yards away.  The Americans then entered the tavern, took the few weapons found there, and a few "souvenir" bottles, and left the place burning merrily from all the spilled alcohol.  The group marched proudly to the Peanutville ferry and thence home in New Jersey.

      NSMA and the Connecticut and New York militias evacuated their part of Staten Island (roughly West Brighton to New Dorp) before the enemy could disentangle themselves.  Farms and orchards were burned, and livestock slaughtered.  Little was left to feed or shelter the occupiers.  The cell phone relay tower was dismantled and hidden in the vegetable cellar of the Mersereau family who wondered what this was.  No one told them.

     Back in Brooklyn, Hardy held his ground, with the 'goons providing some harassment of the enemy, who still outnumbered his forces by a vast margin.  He received word that British General Grant was trying to go ashore at Gowanus, which now was defended by Stirling, the renegade Lord.  With the howitzers effectively out of ammunition, the conventional cannon were able only to delay the invasion.  Stirling was forced to fall back.  Hardy had a courier go to Flatbush, where Col. Hand had a regiment doing absolutely nothing.  The courier told Hand that the Gravesend attack was defeated, a Sheepshead Bay attack was stalled, but Stirling urgently needed help in Gowanus.  Hand got his troops marching to relieve Stirling.  A stalemate resulted, with the Americans holding the British to no more than a two mile deep strip of Brooklyn stretching from Gravesend to Gowanus.  Ultimately Grant withdrew, as did Heiser, as each discovered they were pretty much isolated without hope of significant reinforcements, while each day saw more troops joining the American resistance.  Heiser and his Hessians, however, found little hope of being removed by ship when they tried to get back to Sheepshead Bay.  Americans from the eastern part of Long Island, and a group of older cadets and NSMA neighbors slipped between Heiser and the shoreline.  After being trapped there for several days with supplies getting ever lower, Heiser negotiated a surrender.  Grant's forces, meanwhile, were able to effectuate a costly withdrawal under fire from musketry and such conventional cannon as still had gunpowder.  Many of them simply moved across the water to Staten Island, while the rest withdrew to join the fleet which fled New York harbor.

     Over the succeeding months, the occupation of Staten Island turned into something resembling a siege.  The Hessians twice attempted to cross Arthur Kill into New Jersey, but their accumulation of rowboats, rafts and the like were spotted long before their attacks began, and in each case the crossings were turned back by Herd's forces with considerable loss of life.  No attack of Brooklyn or Manhattan was even attempted, given the far greater distances involved.  Tories managed to smuggle small amounts of food into Staten Island, but the blockade grew steadily more effective.  Finally, in mid December the commander on Staten Island sent a letter under flag of truce to Manhattan, addressed to "His Excellency, George Washington, &c. &c."  Washington rejected this as improperly addressed.  The Scots letter carrier argued that it implied everything.  Washington responded it implied anything, and he would not accept a letter so addressed.

     Finally a letter was sent addressed to "General George Washington", which he accepted.  It offered to surrender the entire force on Staten Island, and asked for terms.  On Christmas eve Washington and his staff embarked from Manhattan to meet on Staten Island with the British commander.  Large ice flows filled the harbor.  This scene later became the subject of a large and famous patriotic painting, "Washington Crossing the Hudson", by Lutze, although it could be doubted that Washington made the hazardous crossing standing up in the boat, as depicted.

     Washington's terms were that all the occupiers would be disarmed, but could remain on Staten Island for the time being (since he could not afford the time or personnel to build and guard housing elsewhere for such a large group of prisoners).  The blockade against sending in food ended, although the British commander, Gen. Simcoe, had to sign an agreement to pay for whatever was received.  Two days later a thousand Americans came across to Staten Island, and collected all the weaponry.  Guards were placed on all the likely locations for attempts at rescue or escape.  Over the next month Staten Island became the main holding site for British and Hessian prisoners, as they were ferried in from many locations.

     About sixty ships from the original invasion fleet had left the New York area.  No one devoted any thought to them for days, since the landings were keeping everyone busy.  But the fleet had an alternate destination.  Reports came in that five days after leaving New York, a British fleet had shelled the Delaware and Maryland coast, burning several fishing villages.  Then nothing further was heard for another six days, when reports came that the British had landed at least twenty thousand troops south of Charles Town, South Carolina.

     NSMA had nothing anywhere near the site of the South Carolina landing which could do any good.  However, this was an excellent opportunity to bring in some unexpected allies.  The NSMA delegation at Keowe, the Cherokee capitol, were told this was their chance.  The Cherokee were invited to join.  By this time, the British had burned Port Royal and Beaufort, defeating a force under William Moultrie at Beaufort.  Their march took them into Colleton County, where they sacked the county seat of Walterboro.  Moultrie continued to harass their advance.  The first noticeable resistance was swept aside at Cottageville.  The line of march could be easily traced by the burned and destroyed villages, hamlets, plantations and farms.  Major Green was contacted in North Carolina, and ordered to move south.

      The Cherokee under the leadership of Old Tassel moved much faster than the British army, but had a long distance to reach them.  The NSMA contingent in South Carolina gathered outside Eutawville, where they were able to put their advanced rifles to good use.  However, ten men with M1s, helped by a hundred local militia under Francis Marion, could do no more than briefly slow down the British advance.  The British were passing north of the Cooper River when the first Cherokee arrived on canoes down the Wateree River.  Marion and NSMA upon hearing the firing on the British flank moved in and struck the front.  Believing they were facing a planned and coordinated attack, the British settled down for a major battle.  Moultrie came up behind the British position, which now was becoming untenable, despite their overwhelming numerical advantage.

     NSMA and Francis Marion blocked their advance to the east, backed by the Santee River.  The Cherokee were hitting them from the north, and Moultrie from the southwest.  On their remaining front, they were pressed against the Cooper River.  But numbers will ultimately tell, especially since the NSMA groups had little of their special ammunition.  The British were preparing to smash through Marion's lines to the Santee, when Major Rakim Green arrived with ten NSMA alumni and twelve hundred fresh troops, all of them former slaves, and plenty of ammunition.  Two more days' fighting convinced the British their position was hopeless.  

     South Carolina President John Rutledge formally accepted the British surrender, marking the end of the last major battle of the American Revolution.

FROM:  North Shore Military Academy

TO:  All alumni, cadets, staff, etc.

     Our congratulations on a job well done.  Fighting has ended more than four years early, saving tens of thousands of civilians unmeasurable suffering.  It would appear also that more than four thousand Americans are alive than would have been the case.  But that was accomplished with some cost to ourselves.  The efforts of the brave men we have lost cannot be enhanced or glorified by our weak words.  For they have stood and fallen in the most unusual of ways in honor of our ancestors, by helping those same ancestors.  You all have answered the call to be Americans, to be present at the very creation of those traditions which you follow.  And so it is not with malice toward any, but instead with a generous spirit that we can say we can and will hold ourselves out as a model for all the world, in a land where every citizen will have equal rights under law, and no one is advantaged or debarred by the circumstance of birth in achieving what you might.  History cannot, for reasons we all know, fully understand you and what you have done, but instead you must take satisfaction from your success and use that to honor our dead.  A special memorial plaque bearing the names of those who fell in this war will be placed by the academy's flagpole, headed with the inscription "Reader, go tell the cadets that we have answered our nation's call for freedom.  Help us build the peace."

    " While the war is won, until the Constitution is adopted and a national government in place, the struggle is not yet ended.  This part of the struggle will not be as dangerous to life and limb, but it may well be more difficult, for it means working on the minds of men, and for that, weapons are useless.  Please enjoy the peace, and  work with us towards winning a nation.

L. Rolandson, Headmaster                                       J. Gryffyth, Commandant"

     Vermont's constitutional convention was meeting in the capitol of Windsor, in the largest venue available, a tavern.  The Allen faction was fairly dominant.  Since Vermont probably had no  more than ten slaves all told, the provision to ban slavery went through without much trouble.  But then a proposal was made to define voting rights to include everyone over the age of 21, men and women both.  This idea came up late in the day, so few of the many who felt called to speak on the issue were able to do so before the meeting adjourned and the building reverted to its normal status as a tavern.  Several delegates sat around a table, drinking.  One began to pontificate, "Were women allowed to vote, they would also necessarily be permitted to enter taverns such as this alone. I simply cannot imagine such a thing.  Barmaid," he said turning around, "bring me another bottle of that port."

     A slightly more (or possibly less) sober colleague noted that the barmaid was there alone.

     "Ha, just my point.  Would you have barmaids vote?  As soon my horse could vote.  In fact, did not the Emperor Nero make his horse a member of the Roman Senate?  Yet even he never had barmaids vote."

     The barmaid walked to the table with a tray containing the requested bottle of port, and three mugs of beer.  She put down the bottle, and as she turned to take the beer to another table, tripped.  All three beers landed in the lap of the man who wished his horse to vote. 

     As delegates entered the tavern the next morning, they found it surrounded by a large number of women.  Some were holding up signs urging votes for women.  Two shared a large banner reading:

                           LET THEM BOTH VOTE!!

     Four women were handing out leaflets.  The entire group seemed to be under the direction of a woman wearing the well known combat fatigues of NSMA, with the insignia of a second lieutenant.  Two more women came down the street with a single large banner:

                                           YOUR CHOICE

     Inside, one delegate huffed, "How dare that woman dress in that uniform?"  But others recognized her.  "She led a group of women when we took Fort Ti.  It's true there was no battle,  but she stood with us."  The huffy one made a rude noise and stomped outside.  He walked up to Lt. Palmer, and said "Get home, and take your wenches with you.  Voting is men's work.  I promise we will not prevent you from tending infants and cooking." 

     "You, sir, are a sexist pig," was her response.  "Do you really feel that way about your  mother, your sister, your wife and your daughter?"  She tried to hand him a leaflet. 

     He struck the leaflet from her hand, and when it hit the ground, stepped on it deliberately, grinding the heel of his boot into it.  "I can see you won't be voting for freedom of speech or press, either, or do you simply resent literature because you're illiterate?" she said with a distinct sneer.  "Just which side were you on during the war?" 

     He swung his left fist at her mouth.  Palmer caught his hand about eight inches from her face, and executed a perfect flip.  He had the bad luck to land in a very dirty mud puddle. From appearances and odor, several horses had contributed to the puddle in various ways.  Quite a few on-lookers, among them both women and convention delegates, laughed loudly.  He got up and took another swing at Palmer.  This got the same result.  The crowd was much larger by now as people poured out of the tavern and other buildings to see the fun.   The laughter was so much louder that it was hard to hear him threaten her.

     Totally infuriated, the man drew a small pistol from the top of his boot.  Palmer kicked it out of his hand.  The pistol flew a good ten yards, landing next to a watering trough.  He next drew a dagger.  She grabbed his wrist, and twisted around, holding him in a half nelson.  Her knee went into the small of his back.  "You will now confess," she hissed in his ear, "that you are the mental, moral, and physical inferior to every woman who ever lived."

     "Vile bitch, I'll thrash you so badly your man will trade you for a monkey."  Her grip tightened.  He felt his shoulder dislocate with a pop.  In agony he tried to buck free.  She kicked his legs out from under him.  He lay in the mud writhing in pain.

     A younger man, dressed a bit formally for a Vermonter, said, "I congratulate you on your  excellent handling of the fool.  You have convinced me to support votes for women at today's meeting."

     "Indeed, allow me to introduce myself.  I am Noah Chittenden."

    "My father.  Do you know him?"

    That put Palmer at a disadvantage.  She had never met the elder Chittenden, but she certainly could not admit to foreknowledge that he would serve as President of the Republic of Vermont until New York and New Hampshire withdrew their claims and allowed Vermont to join the union, with Chittenden thereafter serving a couple terms as Governor.  Finally she said, "I heard about him from friends in Connecticut."

     "Well, I shall ask him to support your wish for a vote, and to get Ira Allen, whom you may know is his political ally, also to support it.  Of course, it would be nice if you could then get your lady friends to vote for Allen and his crowd."

     "We would be delighted to, especially since I know the Allens from Fort Ti, and its always nice to vote for people you know will win."

     Young Chittenden smiled, and asked if she would join him inside the tavern for a quick snack before the day's meeting started.  She looked him over.  A nice, presentable appearance, about 24 years old, apparantly more concerned with his dress than most Vermonters, good family ties, a safe public location.  She accepted.  A number of by-standers, not all of them women, applauded her as she entered the building.

June 16, 1777

Major Rakim Green commanding

     "The North Carolina legislature, with considerable muscle applied to it, finally approved a procedure to end all slavery in the state by January 1, 1803.  There are tax benefits for those who free slaves before then, and bonuses to ex-slaves who opt to return to Africa or move out of state.  There are only about 23,000 slaves left in North Carolina anyway, thanks to our efforts to smuggle them out.  A motion to give women the right to vote failed.  

     "I feel that my major role is done.  I have a wife, Mabel, and four children, plus a home waiting for me, so, like Huck Finn, I'm lighting out for the territories.  However, as our kids get old enough, I'll be sending them back to NSMA for an education.  You'll be seeing my oldest, Rakim III, in about two years."

     Green's message created considerable upset.  The administration had no idea where he was headed, and feared this would be the first of a wave of desertions.  Investigators sent to North Carolina discovered that Green had set up a major operation for smuggling slaves out of the state, apparently to the west.  They had been so successful that well over half the slaves in North Carolina, as well as thousands of slaves from neighboring states, had disappeared by the time the state voted to end slavery anyway.  But no one knew, or would betray, where they had gone.

**********************************************************

Philadelphia detachment

Capt. Larkin Commanding

20 August 1778

"I was discussing politics etc with the usual gang in our favorite tavern when a skinny guy came up and asked if I was Oliver Larkin.  I pled guilty, and he introduced himself as Deacon John Larkin.  He thanked me for having a replacement horse sent to him, and asked how we were related.  Fortunately, I had not yet had much of the beer the tavern serves, so I said, semitruthfully, that all I knew was that my father had always said we were related, although seeing his reaction if I had said he was my seven times great grandfather might have been interesting.  Actually, I tried to change the subject quickly by asking what he was doing in Philly.  Seems his congregation got him elected as a delegate to Congress.  This strikes me as  both dangerous and as an opportunity.  Dangerous because he'll be around, and I may make a slip, and an opportunity, because I should have influence on his vote.  I have to admit that after that big speech in the school library about our assignments keeping us away from relatives, finding him here is amusing."

***********************************************************                    

     The Americans made two final attacks, seizing Bermuda and Florida.  Britain's last attack was to burn a couple small towns along the Maine coast. The Peace Treaty was finally signed on September 12, 1778.  On November 3 George Washington hosted a farewell dinner in a tavern at the lower end of Manhattan for his leading officers.  Gryffyth and Howard were specifically invited.  As they walked up from the Brooklyn ferry, Howard commented, "We had a class trip to Fraunces Tavern when I was taking American History in the tenth grade.  Be interesting to see how realistically it had been preserved.  Were you ever here before?"

     "No, so I can't do any comparisons, but I understand the food is pretty good.  I certainly hope so."

     "Isn't it surprising how some things are replaying pretty much the way they did in our history, like this farewell dinner that Washington is throwing?"

    "Maybe, maybe not.  It's part of the man's personality, and that hasn't changed, so I'm not really surprised.  Anyhow, how many catering halls do you find in New York in this era?"  

     "Would that it were.  A five mile trip would have been a lot easier."  

     Inside, Washington's eyes fell on Gryffyth.  He turned away from the group surrounding him, and walked to Gryffyth.

     "I am delighted that you came.  You need not worry about my saying the wrong thing.  What I heard from you was sufficiently frightening that I hope you never tell another soul.  But I trust you will permit a few laudatory words."

     "Whatever you feel is appropriate, General.  But I must admit to considerable relief about your plans to, shall we say, limit the subject under discussion."  An extremely overweight man in a general's uniform walked by as Gryffyth suddenly broke off his words.

     "Ah, yes," said Washington, "permit me to introduce you to General Horatio Gates, who has been chosen by Congress to be the Army commander upon my retirement."

     "It's my pleasure to meet him, but you should understand that the United States is not facing any immanent threats, so NSMA will not be taking an active role in the military.  Still, I suppose it's useful to meet the commander."  Washington performed the introductions required by etiquette.  Gryffyth said, "General Gates, sir, a pleasure to meet the man who so soundly defeated General Burgoyne at Saratoga."

     "Thank you sir, but I doubt it would have been quite so overwhelmingly successful had not a band of the bloody savage Iroquois not first struck Burgoyne.  And I hear that your men were responsible for both Boston and New York.  My fullest congratulations."

     Gryffyth smiled.  "I'm pleased to be able to say I trained them, and they seem to have learned well, but I was present only for the latter stages of New York, when it appeared we were in trouble."

     "Just when a capable commander is most needed to rally his troops.  Are you interested in remaining in the active army?"

      "No, I intend to return to my responsibilities of training.  We should have some years of peace ahead of us, and preparing new soldiers to meet those times is more important to me than garrison duty of the frontier."

     "Ha, a bold spirit.  I shall keep you in mind if we do find ourselves in another war any time soon."

************************************************************

Philadelphia Detachment

     I may be really pushing you to want to reassign me now.  Dave Rittenhouse, John Larkin, and some others were relaxing with me in our favorite tavern when a new delegate from Virginia came in, a fellow named Wade Hampton.  Ours is a convivial group, and Larkin had already met him as a fellow delegate, so we invited this Hampton fellow to join us.  One thing led to another, and a few days later John and I were invited to Hampton's lodgings for a reception.  He is accompanied by his wife, and a younger sister--John suggested to me that she was along to be introduced to interesting bachelors.  Anyhow, I found this sister to be exceptionally good looking and very intelligent.  Her name is Enya, like that Irish singer back in the early years of the Twentyfirst.  The Hamptons seem to go in for odd names.   She is a very fair blonde, green eyes, about 5'2", and seems well educated--well, never mind.  I danced with her twice, and the next day, upon running into Wade, asked him if he had any objections to my seeing her again, or if he knew whether she did.  He laughed at me as "one of those silly Yankees."  (And me a Mets fan in the old days!)  I was assured no member of the Hampton family had any objection to me.  So I have started "seeing" her, since they don't "date" here and now.  But I have a problem--they brought several slaves with them.  If you aren't already cutting orders for me to ship out to the far end of nowhere, I'll keep you apprised--and I'll watch my tongue.  Chapter Three:  Is This Peace?  

     Gryffyth, Rolandson, Howard and Shenberg were meeting.  Rolandson said, "Our efforts at squelching slavery and getting women the franchise have had some success.  Massachusetts, Vermont, and Pennsylvania have all created universal voting rights.  New York, Connecticut, and New Jersey allow women to vote on the same basis as men, that is if they own a certain minimum amount of property.  Not great, but it's a start.  As for slavery, Quebec, Vermont, New Hampshire, and Massachusetts have ended it outright.  Pennsylvania and Rhode Island have accelerated plans that end it in five years, New York and Connecticut in twenty, and North Carolina, which seems to have damn few slaves left thanks to Rakim Green, in 25 years.  New Jersey and Delaware haven't ended slavery, but their tax laws discourage it."

     Shenberg said, "I'm disappointed women aren't doing better.  We ought to send that little firebrand of yours to a few more states."

     "You mean Palmer?  She seems to be getting a little too attached to Vermont with this new boyfriend of hers to ever accept reposting."  Gryffyth thought for a moment.  "We have a more pressing problem right here than tracking down Green, or the love life of former cadets."

     Shenberg looked puzzled.  "Could you explain that?"

     Rolandson said, "When we arrived in 1770, we had 289 cadets of 320 we started with in 2009.  Nearly all of them have graduated.  We picked up about 170 youngsters from the neighbors who came back with us.  A lot of them have graduated also, although we've picked up a few more who were too young to attend school in 1770, and a few have been born since then.  But today we're down to only about 80 cadets.  Frankly, the school is in danger of running out of students, and we don't dare open our doors to locals.  We would have to bar their kids from seeing electricity, reading history books, all sorts of things.  It would be impossible."

      Gryffyth nodded.  "I've been worrying about this, too, and I don't see an easy out.  In a few  years we'll start getting second generation students, but until that happens, I don't know how we'll keep going."

     Shenberg smiled.  "Gentlemen, there is a source of students from this century that you don't have to worry about.  Just put out an announcement that NSMA will take full responsibility for educating all war orphans who don't have relatives to care for them.  These kids will be so grateful to be rescued that you won't have to have any concern about their revealing too much, and local authorities will be delighted to have the expense and responsibility out of their hands."

     It was not quite that simple, and Gryffyth and Rolandson insisted upon interviewing all potential orphan students, but it ultimately brought in 94 children, nicely helping to fill otherwise nearly empty classrooms.  By the time their numbers began to drop through graduation, respectable numbers of second generation students, the children of NSMA alumni, were beginning to enroll.

September 20, 1780  The coach travelled much more easily over the paved road, which was much kinder to the tired old bones of Ben Franklin.  At 71 he felt he was getting past all this travelling around, but Washington had been insistent that he visit NSMA, using the excuse of checking on the welfare of the war orphans taken in there.  Washington had been deliberately and very uncharacteristically evasive about what he expected Franklin to find, except that it did not really involve the children.  Franklin was beginning to nod off from the pleasant motion of the coach on the paved road when he heard a loud challenge.  The coach drew to a stop.

     "Unauthorized visitors are not permitted."  Franklin leaned out the coach's window to see who was speaking.  He saw two young people, a boy and a girl, wearing one of the odd uniforms that had become familiar from NSMA.  Each was carrying one of their dangerous rifles.

     The two walked to the side of the coach where Franklin was looking out.  Their reaction showed clearly that they recognized him.  The girl said in a commanding voice, "Stay here with them while I check with HQ."

     The boy responded with something that sounded like "Gotcha sarge" to Franklin.  He spent several moments trying to decipher that.  The girl walked to a small shack nearby, and after about ten minutes came back.

     "Indeed, I have a letter from him."  He held it out the coach window.

     "Well, it's not for me to read.  They said to send you on, so I'll give your coachman a map on how to proceed from here."  She handed something to the coachman and waved the boy back.  They stood watching as the coach went on.

     As the coach approached the archway Washington had told him about, a man nearing Franklin's age stepped out.  The coach halted.  "Mr. Franklin, an honor to meet you.  I am Leon Rolandson, headmaster of NSMA."

    Franklin exchanged greetings, and then Rolandson said, "Your coachman cannot stop here.  We have guest facilities a few hundred yards away, marked on the map.  He can stable the horses near there, and the building he will be in has the amenities.  I would ask that if you are not too tired from your journey that you come with me to my office."

     "That is quite agreeable to me."  Then Franklin remembered that Washington said the office was up a flight of stairs.  Ah, well, these old bones most likely will benefit from some exercise after such a journey.  Franklin grasped his cane.

     In the office and comfortably seated, Rolandson looked Franklin in the eye.  "Why are you really here?"

     "If you'll forgive the direct speech, Mr. Franklin, because I understand you have a tendency towards speaking bluntly yourself, that's nonsense.  Washington knows enough about us to know they're being well taken care of and getting a better education than is available elsewhere.  Nor would he need to send someone of such prominence as yourself."

     Rolandson looked over the letter and shook his head.  "I don't like this.  He knows better.  Ahh," disgusted, "would you like to see some classes?"

     Rolandson smiled as he ushered Franklin from his office.  "Most classrooms are on this floor."

     They looked in on four classrooms.  One had math, another what Rolandson described as social studies, which struck Franklin as being devoted to a mix of politics, geography and trade.  The third was learning French.  He listened briefly, and when they left the room commented to Rolandson, "I believe your teacher is not Parisian."

     Franklin frowned.  "The Germans are a major plague to good order in Pennsylvania.  Why would you want children learning their language?"

     "Germany will be a major nation.  Their efforts in science and elsewhere entitle them to attention.  At least, that's our view."

     Rolandson looked very unhappy.  "The students in there need complete quiet.  Our presence would be very disturbing, especially since I would expect all of them to recognize you."

    Franklin said, "Perhaps an interruption will do them good," and walked through the door.  Rolandson hastily followed.  He gestured to a man sitting in the front at a desk.  "That is the Assistant Headmaster, Carl Mendham."  The cadets, about thirty of them, were scattered around eight tables which could easily have held thrice the number.  They looked up, and there were little gasps and exclamations around the room as they realized who was accompanying Rolandson.  Even Mendham looked surprised.  Franklin walked to where Mendham was sitting, and shook his hand.  Then he turned to the room of cadets, and pointed to a boy seated not far from him.  "What are you reading?"

    The boy jumped to his feet.  Standing at attention, he said, "Sir, I am working on my algebra homework."

     Turning to Rolandson, who was now standing beside him and looking very unhappy, Franklin said, "Algebra.  A splendid discipline and impressive that you teach it."  Back to the student.  "And are you doing well in algebra?"

     Franklin raised his eyebrows at Rolandson, who quickly said, "It's an acceptable but not outstanding grade."

     Franklin waved to the student to sit down, and pointed to a girl at a different table.  "What are you studying?"

     She stood up, and replied, "Sir, I am reading up on an experiment we will be doing in physics class tomorrow."

     Franklin moved slightly down the aisle, facing the tables with his back to the shelves of books labelled "American History".  "Is anyone taking classics?"

      He was rewarded by blank looks.  Mendham said, "Our pedagogical theory is somewhat different from what you may be familiar with.  We do give two years of Latin, but modern languages and science are far more important."  As Mendham spoke, Franklin slipped his right hand, which was on the side away from Mendham and Rolandson, behind him.  He grasped a book off the shelf and slid it under his waistcoat.  After a few more comments, Franklin permitted himself to be led out of the library.  He asked to be shown to a room to rest.

     Several hours later there was a knock on his door.  Franklin raised himself and opened the door.  A cadet sergeant stood there.  "Sir, Headmaster Rolandson invites you to dinner with him and some of the staff in his private quarters."

     "An hour, sir."

     Refreshed from his rest, Franklin finally took a look at the book taken from the school library.  Ah, I seem to have selected a most curious choice without seeing what I purloined.  He chuckled as he settled down to an initial brief scrutiny of a book entitled History of the United States, Vol. 2, 1865 to 1945.  He noted the publisher was Columbia University Press, and the publication date 2002.  ISBN followed by a long string of digits was incomprehensible.  Kings College was but recently renamed Columbia College.  Has it now grown to a more pretentious status?  He found that the book began with two maps, showing the United States in 1865 and 1945.  The latter map showed the entire world, and seemed to indicate that the United States had military bases in much of western Europe and around the Pacific Ocean.  The outlines of North America in the Pacific region were decidedly different than those on maps he knew, with embayments, a large island, and a large peninsula near the top.  There seemed little sign of a Northwest Passage.  A table following the maps listed Presidents from 1865 to 1945.  Ben Franklin turned the page and began to read a history of events 85 years in his future.

     At the appointed time Franklin hid the book he had been reading, and opened the door of his room.  A cadet stood waiting.  "I'm to take you to the Headmaster's private quarters for dinner."

     Franklin thanked him, and strode along with him to dinner.  He found himself seated with Rolandson on his right, and a Mrs. Healey on his left.  While Rolandson and Gryffyth tried to pump him on his purpose in visiting, Mrs. Healey fawned on him and reciprocated his flirtation shamelessly.  At the end of dinner, Mrs. Healey said, "I would just love to escort you around some of the grounds outside this dingy old school building.  How about it, Mr. Franklin?"

     Gryffyth made a strange choking sound.  Mrs. Healey ignored him, and said, "Oh, Ben, and you'll call me Florence."

    The two walked off arm in arm.  Gryffyth, looking a bit nauseated, said, "That was the most disgusting display of something or other I've seen in this or any other century.  I've never cared enough to ask, but where's her husband?"

    Rolandson looked blank, but Mendham said, "They were in the process of getting divorced when we got zapped back here.  She had the house.  I think he had rented some place in Huntington, and was commuting into the city for work."

     None of them saw Franklin again until the next morning, when he again entered the Academy grounds through the stone archway.  He had a very pleased look on his face.  Bacon met him, the others being too disgusted to bother.  To Bacon Franklin said, "A most delightful woman, and quite gifted in her own way."

     "Indeed, and -- "  Franklin broke off and stared at Bacon.  "That sounds as though you had read a letter I sent my grandson."

     Bacon instantly regretted his mild sarcasm and tried to think of a way to cover.  A change of topic seemed advisable.  "Are you satisfied with our care of the orphans, or do you want to see more?"

     Franklin replied that he felt he had accomplished all that was needed here.  He returned to his room, packed his goods, concealing the book most carefully, and had his coachman summoned.  They were well away before lunch. 

______________________________________________________ 

October 15, 1780  "Sweetheart", Mary Louise said to her husband, "I have a wonderful surprise for you."

     "No, you're safe from bruising."  She giggled.  "I have to go back to Long Island, because we're going to be parents."

     "That's magnificent."  Noah embraced her, and they exchanged a long, passionate kiss in a style familiar in both the Eighteenth and Twentyfirst Centuries.  "But why Long Island?  We have perfectly good midwives in Vermont."

     "Good enough for you, perhaps, but I'm the one having the baby, and I know our doctors are special."  She did not tell him that using her hidden radio she had already made arrangements with the medical staff on Long Island, and had started planning the journey.

     "Our midwives produced me, and I haven't heard any complaints out of you on that matter recently.  Who uses doctors for birthing?"

     "My people do, and our doctors are very well trained for birthing.  I don't want to sound cruel, but those midwives haven't done all that well for your family."

     Noah looked sad.  His mother had borne six girls, none of whom lived.  He did, however, have three surviving younger brothers.   Despite this record he continued to object, but like all other recently married and deeply in love young men throughout history, he didn't stand a chance.  Before her fourth month was much more than half over Mary Louise travelled west overland to the Hudson River, and from there by boat first to Brooklyn, where the Chittendens rested for two days, and then another boat to the town landing nearest NSMA.  When the time came, she delivered a daughter in the NSMA infirmary with Nurse Rita and Dr. Rosenbaum attending, along with two NSMA graduates in training.  When the baby, Edith Elizabeth, was three months old they returned to Vermont where the President delightedly greeted his first grandchild, and the first surviving girl in his family in many years. Chapter Four:  Nation Building Can Be A Bitch 

     While the next few years appeared reasonably peaceful, the economy took a nosedive.  Partly this was due to the loss of major markets, thanks to a British boycott, but trade in any case was down considerably.  The Continental Congresses began showing themselves to be more and more ineffectual, and with many delegates not bothering to travel to Philadelphia, many times no business could be conducted for weeks at a time due to a lack of a quorum.  New York and New Hampshire both tried unsuccessfully to take over Vermont, but did block it from being recognized.  Some Western settlers tried to create a new state they called Franklin, and the Cherokee, Iroquois and Bahamians demanded seats in Congress.  Congress tried to get some money by taxing whiskey, leading to a combined march on Philadelphia by farmers making whiskey and military veterans demanding a pension.  Quebec seemed to be drifting away, not even bothering to elect delegates who failed to show up.  Both Britain and Spain had ships nosing around Florida, looking as though each wanted it back.  

     In the midst of this developing mess, several delegates to the Continental Congress put out a call for a convention to consider amendments to the Compact of Association under which Congress had been operating.

     The Constitutional Convention had been meeting for a couple weeks, and a subcommittee was appointed to prepare a draft, not of amendments, but of an entirely new document.  The members of the subcommittee asked the most vocal of their colleagues, James Madison, to prepare the draft.  The following day Madison's fellow Virginian, Washington, called him aside for a private conversation.  "Did you find our ease of victory in the late war a surprise?"

     Madison was surprised by the seeming irrelevance of the question.  "Yes, particularly what I have heard of the Battle of New York, but how does that reflect on our present objective?"

     "We had some exceptionally peculiar help.  And I believe that you should meet with some people this evening who could give similar vital help on our present objective."  He refused to say anything else.  

     Madison was directed to Oliver Larkin's lodgings for the evening event.  He of course was acquainted with Larkin, as the brother-in-law of a prominent Virginian and sometime member of the Continental Congress.  The man and woman with Larkin were unfamiliar.

     "Mr. Madison, you do me an honor by coming here this evening.  I apologize for having General Washington deliver the invitation, but it was extremely important that you come, and we felt having his endorsement would help convince you both to show up and to accept the truth of what we are about to tell you."

     After a further exchange of courtesies, and introducing the strangers as General Gryffyth and Professor Shenberg (Madison was intrigued at the idea of a woman professor, and decided firmly this was part of the evening he would not mention to his wife), Madison was led to an inner room.  The room was lit by glowing globes.  Before he could question this, or mention that he had heard rumors of such things, he found himself being seated.  The globes dimmed.  The glassy wall in front of him suddenly was showing the meeting of the Convention that he had attended that very day.  He could even hear his own voice at several points.  After watching for a few minutes, Madison stood up to his full 5'1" and demanded, "What is all this?"

     "Please relax, sir," Larkin began.  "We used a similar method to catch General Washington's attention some years ago.  You have just been watching something called television, which makes an exact reproduction in picture and sound.  It was" he emphasized the word "invented in 1938."

     "We came here, much against our will, and without the ability to return home, from 2009."  Larkin silently congratulated himself on not lying to Madison while evading admitting responsibility for the time shift.  Gryffyth seemed to have noticed this from his expression.

     Madison eventually had to accept the evidence of his eyes.  And then the woman professor really strained his tolerance for accepting shocking news by telling him that his draft constitution had to have some changes made to avoid future problems.  "For example, you have the electors not making any indication of a preference for President and Vice President.  Instead the top vote getter becomes President.  This offers the possibility for all sorts of mischief, and in fact will be changed after the fourth election produces a tie vote, and the very unworthy intended for Vice President gets the idea he should try to be President."

    Shenberg and Gryffyth looked at each other.  Finally Shenberg said, "Are you prepared to swear an oath by all you hold holy and by your most sacred honor that anything you hear in this room will never be repeated to any outside person at any time?"

     "The consequences for the world knowing that people from the future are interfering would be disastrous.  Besides which, America should be allowed to grow through its own efforts, not by thinking some hidden conspiracy of time travellers will save them at every crucial moment."

     "You seem to have devoted considerable thought to this, and I suspect you know a lot more than you are telling.  Very well, I swear on my immortal soul that I will discuss nothing I learn here with anyone not already informed about time travel."

     "Burr?  The New Yorker?  As President?  The idea is ludicrous."

     "It's worse than that.  He will shoot another delegate to this convention for defeating his bid to be President, and then try to set up his own kingdom in the Mississippi Valley."

     "Just a small sample of the things we could reveal, with accompanying turmoil."  Larkin had been silent so long Madison had almost forgotten his presence.  His remark drew glares from Gryffyth and Shenberg.

     Madison took a printed list of additions to his draft constitution from Shenburg.  This list began with the change to the method of electing Presidents, and then gave a ten item Bill of Rights.  When he read this he looked up and said, "Others have suggested a Bill of Rights, but I feel that is covered in the common law, and listing them will just impugn any not listed."

     "Yep, that's the argument you're historically quoted as giving for not having a Bill of Rights.  As it happens, too many states will refuse to ratify without the Bill, so it got added as amendments within four years.  Much better to include it from the beginning," Shenberg said.

     Madison shook his head and read on.  "This business of not suing states in federal courts?  Isn't that obvious?"

     A deep sigh.  "Not changing remuneration of Congress and other officials until an election has occurred.  Very clever."

     "Twenty seventh amendment." 

     "That's a lot of amendments we're skipping."

     "The eighteenth and twentyfirst negate one another.  Direct election of senators would not be acceptable now.  And so on.  Don't worry about the others, they aren't all that important yet, or could not be accepted."

     "Provinces with one seat in the House of Representatives and none in the Senate.  What's that all about?"

     "To satisfy the Bahamians, the Cherokee, and some others later in our history.  The Bahamians have been pestering Congress for years.  Shouldn't this satisfy them?"

     "I take it that provinces would each be good for one electoral vote for President?" 

     "If this will appease the Bahamians and the Cherokee, I might be able to sell it to the Convention.  I notice you did not add anything to my draft regarding slavery or votes for women, despite persons associated with your academy having achieved a certain, ah, notoriety for their views on those subjects."

     Gryffyth and Larkin both looked grim.  Larkin said, "If we could end slavery without starting another war, we would do it.  As it is, about half the states have either ended slavery or are phasing it out.  We'll leave it there."

     Shenberg added, "In our history women did not get the vote until 1920.  Instead we have a few states already allowing us to vote.  We'll take that kind of progress, as long as you get the constitution accepted."  She smiled, and added, "From my reading of history, you'll likely be soon hearing from your own wife on votes for women."  Madison felt a sudden twinge of fear.

October 15, 1779:     Mendham was reading the most recently received London Times when a familiar name caught his attention.  "The Royal Astronomical Society is reportedly much taken with a paper but recently received from an American.  Far from a rebellious cry, this Yankee calling himself Lt. Richard Desmond has claimed to have solved the puzzle of how the well known star Algol changes its brightness.  The solution, according to Desmond, is that Algol is in reality two stars of differing characters, with one eclipsing and hence darkening the other."  Mendham jumped up and ran to his telephone.  

     Within minutes he was joined by Rolandson, Gryffyth, Shenberg, and Vincent Avora, one of NSMA's two science teachers.  Mendham read them the Times article.  Avora cried out, "No, he can't!  Algol's nature was explained by a deaf astronomer named Goodricke early in the 1780s.  This is gratuitous interference."

     Shenberg said, "I don't know the details here, but this could be extremely dangerous if Desmond is allowed to get away with this.  We'll have people 'discovering' and 'inventing' things long before their time, and the real discoverers will lose out."

      "Worse than that," Avora said.  "William Herschel will discover Uranus in about eighteen months.  As a result, he'll get a life pension from the King, allowing him to quit his job as an impoverished musician in Bath, England and marry an heiress.  Herschel will be probably the greatest astronomer of his day, and do all sorts of important scientific work.  Not only that, his son will start the first major observatory in the southern hemisphere.  If Desmond grabs credit first, all that will be lost."

      "He's supposed to be in Connecticut," Rolandson said.  "Let's try to reach him by radio."

      Desmond was ordered back to the academy instantly, which meant he showed up a couple weeks later.

     "Well, recently I've been working on a Col. Brown.  He owns one of the largest farms in the state, and has one of the largest collection of slaves in the state."

     "That's very nice," Shenberg said, "but we hear you've been interfering in another area that is totally reprehensible."

     Desmond looked bewildered. "What on Earth are you talking about?"  

     Mendham shoved the Times article in his face.

     Desmond glanced over it and smiled.  "What's wrong with that?  Astronomy has always been a major interest of mine, and it's not like I told them 55 Cancri has six planets, or taught them the HR diagram."

     Rolandson took a deep breath.  "Your name is now attached to this, stealing the credit from its rightful discoverer, who is, I might add, a tragic figure and a brave role model for the handicapped.  You, on the other hand, are a time travelling plagiarist as much as if you went to a printer and had them publish Tom Sawyer with you as author."

     "No," Gryffyth said, "but I'm ashamed you can say you graduated from here with so little ethics.  Were you going to quote discover unquote Uranus next?"

     Avora said, "If you do, Herschel will remain an unknown and impoverished musician, his studies of galactic structure, of nebulas, of much else will never happen.  He almost created deductive reasoning in astronomy.  His son will never be born to create Table Mountain Observatory.  And you'll be remembered for something you have no right to."

     "Remember my warnings about butterfly effects on history?  You are tempting some severe effects just for your own ego."  Shenberg shook her head.

     "Good grief.  Alright, no more astronomical discoveries or predictions.  But" slyly, "don't you think you should start introducing some improved medicine?"

     Rolandson replied, "That's a major moral problem we're still wrestling with.  Washington will die in 1799 from being bled as a treatment for what we think was pneumonia.  Do we let that happen, or do we get into a fight with the most respect medical doctor in America?"

     Shenberg said, "He's respected by his contemporaries, and whether we think his views are quaint or ignorant isn't the question.  The problem is if we start throwing around advanced knowledge, what will be the consequences?  As for the treatment of Washington's illness, we have plenty of time to decide, but since we don't have all sorts of fancy medicines and machinery, we probably will do only a limited amount of changes in medicine.."

     "Well, I can't very well withdraw the paper I sent the RAS, but I promise no more publications on anything without checking, okay?"

     "That's not at all okay," Avora said.  "In fact you should send them a letter retracting your paper.  Tell them you heard Goodricke was working on this, and you stole his ideas."

     Avora glared at Desmond.  "Back in our planetarium we have a canned show about Goodricke.  It's designed for deaf audiences, so we haven't had much reason to use it.  It came as part of the package of canned shows in foreign languages some college planetarium created.  Anyhow, Goodricke dies shortly after making his presentation on Algol.   Despite this, he at least demonstrated that astronomy is a viable career for the deaf.  And you know who else was deaf?  Tsiolkovsky, that's who!"

     Desmond replied, "So we're worried some Russian might not get the commies working on Sputnik two hundred years from now?  Gimme a break."

      Gryffyth looked furious.  "I'll give you a break.  As of now, you are Private Desmond, and you're restricted to campus."

      "Screw you, I've graduated this place.  My commission is from the Continental Congress.  You have no legal right to stop me from doing whatever I want, and I'm sure Judge Casey will back me up.  So I'm leaving, right now."  He started to get up.  Four hands shoved him back in his seat.  He looked back, shocked.  Two large cadets were standing silently behind him.

     Rolandson said, "We're sorry it's come to this.  We had hoped you would see reason.  We absolutely cannot permit you to continue endangering our secret, and disrupting events.  Until you're prepared to correct your behavior, you'll be held."  More cadets came in.  Desmond had cuffs attached to his ankles, with a chain and a large iron ball connected.  "With this you won't be able to move fast enough to get away.  A small radio transmitter will also be attached.  Your own conduct will determine if this is a life sentence."

     Desmond's shouts for Judge Casey and curses rang through the halls as he was led to an unused basement storage room and locked in.

     Six months later Desmond was brought before the committee for a review.  Gryffyth said, "Are you ready to show you've changed?"

     "The floor is yours."

     "France is gearing up for their revolution in a couple years.  I remember that the Paris Observatory was wrecked by a bunch of stupid peasants looting it because they thought the brass fittings and instruments were gold.  Not only that, but remember the Cassini probe to Saturn?"

     Rolandson nodded.  "Sure, it was probably the biggest unmanned space event in the years just before we got stranded back here."

     "The probe was named for an Italian astronomer who discovered the Cassini division in Saturn's rings.  But he fled Italy after Galileo was screwed by the Inquisition, and went to France where he founded the Paris Observatory.  His descendents were in charge there until the French Revolution, when one of them mouthed off at the Directorate or Robespierre or somebody, and had to flee."

     Mendham frowned.  "What's your point beyond showing off how much obscure history you know?"

     "We should send a team to France to save the observatory, and maybe warn the director to be a bit more diplomatic in handling that week's government."

     "And I suppose," said Gryffyth, "you see yourself heading up this mission and being a big hero in the history of astronomy.  And maybe while at Paris Observatory you just might convince the director whose job you just saved to permit you to use one of the telescopes so you could quote discover unquote Neptune or a galaxy or something?"

     Shenburg said, "I think this is a terrible idea.  The fashion designer Oleg Cassini was a descendent of this family.  Once again you're looking to mess with history in ways that are unpredictable.  We agreed at the start that we would only interfere enough to ease America's birth pangs, eliminate slavery, and try to get women the right to vote.  Messing around in the French Revolution and the development of Paris Observatory is way beyond our initial goals."

     Gryffyth nodded.  "For once I agree with you, Sheila.  France is still a long way off, and we still have only sailing ships.  If we establish a precedent of America getting involved in European affairs, or even if we involve ourselves covertly, it's a rotten notion.  Let's stick with Washington's call for no entanglements overseas."

     "Okay, then I've got another idea.  A solar eclipse is coming up in Maine on October 27.  We missed the one in '78 because of the fighting, but this one could be a nice chance." 

     "Are you planning on making any dramatic discoveries a couple centuries too early, like measuring the deflection of light by gravity near the Sun?  If I remember, that proof of Einstein was done at a 1919 eclipse," Avorna said suspiciously.

     Desmond grinned.  "No even I'm not gonna try proving relativity before it's invented.  But the solar corona wasn't recognized as a genuine feature, rather than just glow around the Moon, until some time in the Nineteenth."

     Gryffyth looked at Avorna.  "Is that acceptable?  No dramatic shifts in history or science, no stealing credit from someone alive today?"

     Avorna shook his head.  "I'll have to check dates, but it sounds safe."

     Desmond was allowed out and given a job, but a careful eye was kept on him.  His trip to Maine (which was still part of Massachusetts) was a complete success, and he sent a report of the corona to the Royal Astronomical Society.  After returning to Long Island, in his spare time Desmond made a five inch Newtonian telescope, and resumed a career from his days as a cadet as a volunteer in the school's planetarium.  Eventually a girl from the class of 1780 attracted his attention by walking into the planetarium and asking where Jupiter was when the Declaration of Independence was signed.  His initial reaction was "who cares?"  Then he spent a moment to think about it, and told her in Gemini.  After they married she calmed him down a whole lot.

January 5, 1785, Mount Vernon.  "Please inform General Washington that Jan Bavny from North Shore Military is here to see him."  The slave butler bowed and went into the building.  A few minutes later he returned and ushered Bavny inside.  

     Washington sat at a desk.  He rose and shook hands with Bavny, and urged him to sit.  "What occasions you to make the long journey here?  I trust all is well with your group."

     "Thank you, General Washington, or should I say, Mr. President, yes all is well, but we wished to give you some advice on your up-coming administration."

     Washington gazed wordlessly at him for a moment.  "'Mr. President', eh.  Is that to be the accepted appellation, or is this more of your trying to adjust matters to suit yourselves?"

     Washington lifted a book from his desk and tossed it to Bavny, who turned it to see the title:  History of the United States, Vol. 2, 1865-1945.  In horror Bavny said in a strangled voice, "Where did you get this?"

     "I assume you've read it all?"

     "This is very dangerous.  We had hoped you understood that, and would be more cautious."

     "That may well be, but I felt, we felt, that despite your aid in the late war, we would be amiss to place total trust in your claims.  Some minor validation was needed."

     "Mr. Franklin, who has always disliked the Germans, was not surprised we are to fight two wars with them, although even he is horrified at what they were capable of during the second war.  Mr. Madison recognized that constitutional questions are not heavily addressed in this book, but wonders at several changes you instigated in our constitution from the one the book prints."

     Oh, Lord, this is going to be a lot more difficult than I expected, and I wasn't really looking forward to telling Washington who to nominate for various jobs.  "Sir, before we discuss that, can we be overheard here?"

     "Most of the changes are simply incorporating what would have been subsequent amendments.  Others close loopholes, if the term means anything to you."

     "We tried to make some of the language more explicit, as with the rights of militias to keep and bear arms."

     "We weren't trying to dictate anything, just make clear some issues later generations would argue about."

     "Ah, now we approach one of the reasons for my visit.  If you've read the book you know the United States will fight a bloody civil war over the issue of slavery."

     "We recognize that there's no chance to abolish slavery outright at this time.  However, we have managed to get several states either to phase it out or tax it to the point where it becomes uneconomical."

     "Umm, that was not our plan, it's just that one of our cadets got a little too enthusiastic."

     "You do recognize, though, that slavery has to go?"

     "Your book told me nothing about slavery in other nations.  What status has it in--what was that year you came from?"

     "2009.  Slavery was abolished in the British empire in the 1830s.  I think the United States was the last nation in the New World to abolish it.  It's said that a couple of countries such as Sudan may still maintain slavery in the Twentyfirst Century, but in general it has long since been abolished almost everywhere."

     "Without slaves isn't a large plantation impossible to operate?  One of my aides, John Laurens, is vociferously antislavery.  Yet his father Henry is one of the biggest landowners in South Carolina, and has many hundreds of slaves."

     "Even today you could easily run any plantation with hired labor.  And eventually the industrial revolution will make slavery totally unfeasible."

     "What will happen to the abandoned slaves?  They are simple folk and cannot fend for themselves.  All know that."

     "Pardon me, sir, but that is simply untrue.  All that trouble in North Carolina came from one cadet who was the descendent of slaves.  America will be far better off the sooner it is rid of slaves."

     "Heaven forbid!  I expect you to ignore the issue on a national level, but it would be meaningful and redound to your credit were you to free your own slaves before or upon taking office."

     "You ask of me an action which will cost me dearly in both the value of my slaves and in loss of their labor."

     "There need be no real loss."  (Good grief, I'm starting to talk like these people.)   "If you need workers, simply hire the former slaves, since they will need jobs.  And as for the value of the slaves, unless you were planning to sell them, where is the loss?  I'll tell you what, though, if you feel you have lost any money by freeing your slaves and then hiring them to work for you,  NSMA will make up whatever loss you suffer, and pay the first year's salaries for the former slaves."

     "Next, a few of the appointments in the new government."  He and Washington both took deep breaths.  "A highly experienced and well-trained judge came with us from the Twentyfirst Century.  We feel you should add him to the Supreme Court so it would have the benefit of his being able to draw on a couple centuries of legal thought."

     "I remember meeting him when visiting you people.  I already have five people in mind for the court.  Are you asking me to drop one or to expand the court?"

     "The court should definitely have an odd number of members.  Could I suggest you add another member, perhaps from Quebec?"

     "Is not your judge of Irish background and Catholic?  My godson Parke would much appreciate the Irish appointment, but I may have some problem getting so many Catholics onto the court.  And your man is a New Yorker, as is Mr. Jay, whom I propose to have as Chief Justice."

     "Well, doesn't New York need something, in view of its losing land to Vermont and to the Iroquois province of Akwasasne?   That's where horse trading, as we call it, comes into play.  I'm sure if you can convince the Senate to approve your nephew, you can get everyone you name onto the court."

     "Correct, sir, it's history.  Now I've no comment on your chief department heads, but . . . "   The discussion ran into the next day.

      Benjamin Russell took the dispatch just received, and waved it at his partner.  "William, a courier has just delivered some interesting news from New York.  President Washington has announced his picks for the Supreme Court."

    William Warden sniffed.  "Interesting for attorneys, no doubt, but for us honest laboring folk, who cares?"

      "It should be a story in the next edition."  Russell and Warden were already working on the next edition of the Massachusetts Centinel, Boston's second newspaper.

     "True enough, attorneys buy newspapers.  They may even read some.  Whom have we on this new court?"

     "The Chief Justice appears to be John Jay, a New Yorker of whom I have heard.  He has dabbled in affairs of state, having headed the negotiating team for the British to withdraw after the late war ended.  A second New Yorker is on the list whom I know not, Joseph X Casey."  Russell peered at the list as though searching out more names.

     "Ha, I know the name.  Remember you the stories told of a group with most remarkable muskets at the battle fought nigh Bunker Hill?"

     "Aye, was Casey there?  I was with my parents' family on our farm outside Lexington that day, expecting the full weight of the King's minions to descend upon us."

     "No, Casey has never to my knowledge set foot in Massachusetts.  But I spoke with several of the group with the exceptional muskets after the battle, when they were awaiting the arrival of General Washington before proceeding to Montreal.  Casey's name was mentioned then as a judge at their home on Long Island.  The middle initial is such a uniqueness that the name entire stuck in my mind."

     "You see nothing else of interest?"

     "Just that this mysterious Long Island academy seems to be taking a major role in our new government.  Note for example the name of the proposed Deputy Postmaster General.  That  Col. Hardy commanded troops for a very important position in the Battle of New York.  A cavalry man, they stopped the British advance from Coney Island."

     Russell shrugged.  "I daresay most joining the new government shall be men who fought in the war.  What of it?"

     Russell smiled.  "Had I that knowledge, I would be far wiser than most."

    "Precisely!"  Warden smashed his fist on the desk.  "We hear they oppose slavery.  I would not hold that 'gainst them, for I also have no love for it.  But rumor says an official of NSMA visited Washington shortly after his election, an' forthwith the General manumits all his slaves.  Further, he starts appointing these people to posts in his new government."

     "This appears sinister?  Have you been striking the alepot early this morn?  Positions must be filled.  Why not by those whom the General commanded and knew did well fighting the lobsterbacks?"

      "I have written to several people I know in New York and on Long Island.  All tell me that NSMA was totally unknown before 1770, and that it turns away all visitors and accepts no students except the children of those who previously attended.  During the war they accepted a few orphans.  It is said to occupy an immense building that would put Parliament House in London to shame.  Strange feats of witchcraft may be practised there."

     "I intend to go to Long Island and investigate them!"

     "You just told me all visitors are turned away, and at your age none would expect you to be applying as an orphan student.  Think you to pretend to teach?"

     Warden eventually convinced his partner, at least to the point of agreeing to permit him to try to visit NSMA.  Plans and preparation, as well as the business of putting out the newspaper, ate up the next month, but finally the day came when Warden boarded a ship leaving Boston for New York and other points.  The first stops were in Rhode Island and Connecticut.  On the fourth day, the ship crossed Long Island Sound and Warden left it at Oyster Bay, from whence he took a stagecoach to Huntington.  From there he walked, carrying a small travelling case, and wearing one of the knapsacks which had been introduced during the war.

    It was a warm July day, with a deep blue sky polka-dotted with puffy clouds.  Insects and birds contributed a background melody.    Every third or fourth farm Warden passed he asked about the route and distance of NSMA.  The responses intrigued him.  Some farmers swore NSMA was a place of mighty angels, bringing health and good crops.  Others decried it as a source of satanic powers.  Finally he reached a farm whose master said, "Aye, they be our close neighbor, them and the people who live around them.  Thou'lt be a ninny for sure, an' ye think o' entry where ye be not wanted."  Warden thanked him, and once out of his sight slipped off the road and into some woods, heading for NSMA.  Fortunately he moved slowly, anticipating he knew not what, but determined to be as silent as possible.  Fortunate, because before he caught himself on it he found his way blocked by half a dozen strands of wire with small twisted sharp pieces of wire attached.  On a nearby tree a sign was hanging:  "POSTED!  NO TRESPASSING!  Violators may be SHOT by us, or EATEN by our large, unfriendly, hungry DOGS."

     Warden retreated a few paces, and sat down, leaning his knapsack-burdened back against a tree.  Leaving after coming so far was unthinkable.  Was this land actually defended by vicious dogs and armed guards?  If so, entry and exploration would have to be even more cautious than Warden had already intended, but he never for a moment considered returning to Boston unsatisfied.

     He spent close to an hour searching for a break in the wired fence, finally coming across a place where a fallen tree limb pressed it down.  Warden crossed into the forbidden territory, alert for armed guards and hungry beasts, but neither appeared.  He pressed through ordinary forest for a mere hundred yards before coming to another wired fence.  Beyond it was an open area where some sort of crops were growing.  Cursing gently to himself, Warden followed the new fence, heading away from the direction of the road he had taken.  After tramping a goodly distance, he was disgusted enough to take a broken branch and use it to force the lower-most wire upward.  He then slipped under.

     Warden now found himself standing near what appeared to be a road paved with a black substance resembling tar, but upon being examined, it was quite hard.  This road extended past the wire fence he had just squirmed under, continuing for a short distance into the forest before ending abruptly.  However, in that direction it clearly was receiving no care, being covered with litter and detritus of the sort to be expected in a long established forest. About ten feet inside the fence were several white painted logs.  Twenty feet further inside was a sign declaring in large bold letters of an unfamiliar typeface "Dead End".  He paused and wrote a few notes on what he had seen and experienced thus far, then proceeded on the road deeper into the forbidden land.  A typeface new to an experienced printer was not one of the wonders he had expected, but he was confident it would not be the last.

     A couple hundred yards along the road he spotted a house.  This house was large, at least two floors.  On one side it had a shed-like structure attached, only one story high, but with wide double doors, as though intended for access to a cart or carriage.  The house was neatly kept, with evergreens and other trees growing around it, as well as hedges and flowering plants.  There were many windows, all in glass apparently, even an enormous window in the front.  The styling was totally alien to Warden's experience, but not displeasing.  A woman was just entering through a door near the enormous glass window.  At his distance Warden could not see details, but her garb seemed extremely strange, with a dress immodestly short, coming to about her knees.

     He waited a few moments, and then advanced.  He came to a halt as the woman left the house and shouted in an angry tone, "Bobby, where are you?  Get here right now, young man!"  Warden smiled.  This at least seemed much like home.  A boy whose age at Warden's distance was hard to estimate--perhaps eight or nine--dropped out of a tree.  There was no more shouting, so he could not make out what either said as they entered the house together.

     Warden resumed his walk.  He came to a crossroads shortly past the house Bobby had gone into.  He was surprised to see a pole mounted by metallic signs indicating the road he was on was Lilac Lane, while the cross road was Wisteria Way.  Who could fear folk who named streets thusly, he thought.  Which one led to his goal?  He looked left along Wisteria Way.  Perhaps fifty yards away was another house of odd design and plentiful glass.  This house had two white pillars supporting a portico.  A lawn in front had five children, both boys and girls, perhaps twelve or thirteen years old.  Warden was shocked to see the girls wearing what appeared to be very short pants.  The boys wore shirts that seemed to have no buttons.  All sleeves for both boys and girls were no more than half way to the elbow, which no doubt was comfortable on a warm  day.  The children were tossing a weird bright blue object around to one another.  It seemed to be a disk about eight or ten inches in diameter, but it almost floated on the air.  A small dog bounced about enthusiastically chasing the blue disk, but mostly missing it as the children caught it in one hand.  Hoping to avoid contact until he reached the Academy, he chose to continue on Lilac Lane, up a gentle hill past more cropland.

     At the top of the hill Warden finally saw his goal at a point where the road he was on changed, according to another pole-mounted sign, to East Gate Drive.  North Shore Military Academy was located in what was undoubtedly the largest building he had ever seen, reaching four or five stories high, and with wings, patios, and a great cobblestoned courtyard. The far side of the courtyard was marked by an arch over the road entering. A great wooden door in the building had above it heroic statuary figures mounted on charging horses.  On the side nearest him, offset towards the rear, was a plain long low building with a cross painted on the roof.  This cross was made of five equal size squares in red.  Warden was familiar with Catholic crosses, Anglican crosses (they were starting to call themselves Episcopalians), Congregationalist crosses, Lutheran crosses, Methodist crosses, even Greek Orthodox crosses, Boston being a rather worldly place, but never had he seen a cross of this shape, nor a church which only painted on its cross.  He advanced towards the main building, coming up a slight rise into the courtyard.  Where a guard called out "Halt!"

     Warden jumped, and turned to see who was calling to him.  A very young man was pointing an unfamiliar type of musket at him.  Warden slowly raised his hands.  "Who are you and what are you doing here?"

     "My name is William Warden.  I am a newspaper publisher in Boston, and I wish to visit North Shore Military Academy."

     "Turn around and keep your hands in the air."  Warden did not feel inspired to argue, particularly as he remembered the wording of the "no trespassing" sign.  He heard the young man say, "Private Colon, sir, on guard duty at the east entrance.  We have an eighteener here, claims he's from Boston and publishes a newspaper."

     Warden heard a response, but could not make out what was being said.  Then, "Yes, sir, I'll hold him here for you."  Then he seemingly addressed his prisoner.  "You'll have to wait a few minutes.  The Officer of the Day is summoning the Commandant, and they'll be interviewing you."  Warden contemplated the irony of a newspaperman being interviewed by those he wished to write about.

     Fifteen minutes later Warden found himself in a totally different building about sixty yards from the academy.  Although much smaller than what he had seen of the academy, it was still considerably larger than most buildings of his experience.  Seated at a desk across from him were a Brigadier General Gryffyth, introduced as the Commandant, Colonel Bacon, introduced as the Assistant Commandant of NSMA, Lt. Col. Dan Howard, the Headmaster, named Mendham, and his assistant, named Bavny, and a woman named Shenberg.  His fingers itched as he wished he could take notes.

     "I noted a number of people President Washington is appointing to positions in his Administration are connected to your academy, and given its role in freeing Boston in the late war, I thought our readers would be interested in a story."

     "I left the turnpike and walked through the woods until I came to a place where I could get through your wire fence."  Howard made a note of that.

     "I walked in on Lilac Lane, passing a couple houses.  I first spotted your main building and the church next to it from atop a small hill.  Your guard seized me before I could see beyond your courtyard."

     "What church did you see?" 

     "The long low one with the red cross painted on the roof instead of a wooden or stone cross."

     His inquisitors looked at one another.  He sensed some strong emotion, but identifying it puzzled him.  Gryffyth's eyes seemed to twinkle.

     The woman said to him, "We accept only those who are among the properly chosen.  You are a great sinner by coming here.  Indeed, as the Bible tells us, you have trespassed, and while we will forgive you, we cannot permit you to stay."

     "I am a great sinner?  I saw how your women and children are clothed!  Short skirts on the women, and very short pants, of all things, on the girls."

     Bavny (if he had not lost track) said, "This is a warm day.  We believe the Lord finds no sin in comfort."

     Col. Bacon added, "We are not going to waste our time and yours debating our beliefs.  If we give you some information about the history of NSMA and those of its alumni who fought in the war, will you be satisfied?"

     "I would also be pleased to know how many students you have, and how many teachers and what they teach."

     Gryffyth said, "Our corps of cadets is comprised of a Band, which should have 28 cadets playing various instruments when school resumes in September.  There will additionally be four infantry companies and one mounted troop.  With the color guard and battalion command, we expect 219 cadets."

     Mendham shook his head.  "That is not entirely true.  However, we have high and very demanding academic standards, and those not of an appropriate background would be uncomfortable here."

     Howard said, "I am, but I don't think we need discuss this any longer.  We'll be glad to help you on your way back to Boston."

     "Wait, one more question.  The guard who stopped me referred to me as an 'eighteener'.  What does that mean?"

     Bacon had a disgusted look.  "It's slang among cadets for outsiders, and it means the guard is in trouble, because it's slang we try to discourage."  Warden got little else out of them, and was forced back on his imagination and rumors when he sat down to write a publishable story.

     About ten weeks later, well into the first month of the new school year, a copy of the Massachusetts Centinel  was received at NSMA.  The Administration gathered in the Headmaster's Office to see what Warden had written about them.  "'Strange religious cult provided aid at Bunker Hill'", Mendham read aloud.  Reading over his shoulder, Shenberg added "'President Washington's administration to include members of mysterious group.'"

     Howard started laughing.  "I don't know if we should be relieved or insulted.  He really bought that the infirmary was a weird church because of the red cross emblem!  What a schmuck!"

     Gryffyth shook his head.  "As long as this doesn't bring us a bunch of preachers hoping to save us from our sinful cult, I can live with it."

November 1, 1794, NSMA  Col. Bacon said, "The circumstances of my becoming Commandant are very difficult for me, as I'm sure you all appreciate.  However, I would like to have us move on an important issue.  We should introduce the telegraph fairly soon."

     Carl Mendham simply said, "Why?" but Sheila Shenberg cried out, "No!  We're shaking things up too much.  Morse will invent it soon enough.  Let's let history settle down for a while."

     Bacon replied, "I'm sorry, but Morse won't be inventing anything.  He would've been born over three years ago, according to the encyclopedia.  I checked it last month.  But I just learned his parents aren't even married to one another, and his father lives in a totally different town from Findley, NY."

     Mendham shrugged.  "The world has lots of portrait painters, but Morse's role as an inventor is important.  Charles is right, we may have to introduce the telegraph ourselves, but if Morse would have been only three years old right now, I take it the telegraph's invention is still well in the future, so what's the big rush?  I can't see getting concerned about it for at least a couple decades."

     Bacon said, "The United States is a lot bigger than in our history with the incorporation of Canada.  One of these days we'll have the Louisiana Purchase, and eventually we'll pick up the Mexican territories.  Hardy's introducing the Pony Express was helpful, but a country this big can't be held together by communications limited to the speed of horses."

     The new Assistant Commandant, Dan Howard, said, "But it did eventually fall, and I'll bet it would have lasted longer with better communications.  Right now the federal capitol is still in Manhattan, but we all know D.C. is being designed and worked on.  Diddling in national politics isn't too hard with the government a few hours away, but once it shifts down to D.C. in a few years things will be a lot harder for us."

     "Maybe," said Shenberg, "this is the time to start thinking about our ceasing all the interference.  Everyone's fairly wealthy thanks to introducing things like grapefruit and investing in areas we have foreknowledge will prosper.  I think we should stop playing at behind the scenes masterminds of the universe, and let America evolve as it will."

     "Sure, we've still got six states with no plans to end slavery, women can only vote in four or five states, all sorts of diseases are still out there, and England, France and Spain would each love to grab a chunk of this country.  Just the time to quit."  Howard looked a bit more emotional than he normally allowed.

     Bavny added, "And since Washington's first administration, we haven't really involved ourselves in politics.  President Adams has no idea we even exist, unless Washington broke his promise and told him.  We've been totally hands off with the French Revolution except for a few concealed observers with video cameras."

     Bavny responded mildly, "We all know it doesn't work out all that well.  The Republic will fall to Napoleon, who turns it into an Empire, he messes up trying to conquer all of Europe, and the French get stuck with the monarchy until 1848.  If we're so hot and bothered about rushing democracy here, why aren't we doing as much overseas?  Maybe a well placed assassination of Napoleon to save the Republic?  Is that what some of you want?"

     When they finally voted, Shenberg was the sole opposing vote to asking the science teachers and staff of the television and radio stations to work on developing an extremely simple telegraph, including either batteries or a wind generator to power it.  But everyone agreed with her on staying out of the French situation.

December 8, 1799, Mount Vernon  As the retired first President and hero of the Revolution, George Washington was universally respected.  Word of his grave illness brought from Pennsylvania the most prominent medical doctor in North America, a man so famous that he had received honourary membership in the British Medical Association.  Benjamin Rush was both wealthy and important.  He knew it, his dress and carriage showed it, and he let others know he had single-handedly stopped a yellow fever epidemic in Philadelphia.  He was a co-founder and professor in America's first medical school, now part of the University of Pennsylvania.  His articles and books expounded his medical theory of cures by the "system of depletion", for treatment of consumption, apoplexy, gout, hydrocephaly, madness, and much else.

     Standing at Washington's bed side, Dr. Rush said, "Clearly we must initiate bleeding quickly, and apply calomel.  Mr. Washington will otherwise continue to suffer from bile fluid build up."

     Dr. Keith Rosenbaum walked in as Dr. Rush prepared his lancet.  "If you wish to kill the General you'll continue what you're doing.  Otherwise stand back and let me treat him."  Martha, who had brought Rosenbaum in, gasped, not having anticipated a conflict.  Washington raised his head from his pillow.

     Benjamin Rush did not permit Rosenbaum to answer, as he turned and said, "Sir, who are you, and how dare you address me in such fashion?"

     "I'm Dr. Keith Rosenbaum, from North Shore Military Academy, where I had the pleasure of meeting General Washington during the war."

     "A doctor you say?  And did this military academy give you good medical training?"  Rush's sneer hung heavily in the air.

     Rosenbaum paused.  While Washington knew of his origins, Dr. Rush certainly did not, he hoped Martha Washington remained uninformed, and two black servants were present along with Martha's eighteen year old grandson.  "Like you, I obtained my B.A. from Princeton, and graduated from an excellent medical school."

     "Princeton, eh?  Name a professor there with whom we might both have studied."  Rush added something in Latin.

     Washington coughed, and said, "Dr. Rosenbaum need not prove his legitimacy for my benefit, as I know he is a most excellent doctor.  Please, Benjamin, I know you are eager to treat me, but I would have Dr. Rosenbaum try first.  If you wish, you may regard me as a coward who fears the taste of calomel."  He laying panting from the exertion of speaking.

     Rosenbaum thought to himself, Good thing Washington saved me on that one.  Rush was in the class of 1759 according to Shenburg.  That would be just 221 years before me.  Not a heck of a lot of professors around that long, even with tenure!  I'll bet when Rush attended Princeton they didn't even have the P-rade at Commencement.

     "Hush, child.  Your stepgrandfather was just trying to resolve which doctor should perform first without making the other feel injured."

     Rosenbaum leaned over Washington and murmured in his ear, "I have a medicine developed in the 1930s which will cure your pneumonia.  We ran out of the supply we brought with us long ago, but we spent fifteen years trying to reinvent it.  Are you willing?"

     "Penicillin."

     "If it be efficacious...." Washington broke off for more coughs, then lay panting for a spell, "will you use it for other folk?"

     "Then let us try, and hope it works, for I do not love being bled, regardless of Dr. Rush's eagerness."

     Rosenbaum grinned and whispered, "I'll tell you a secret.  Bleeding is used for only a couple of rare blood diseases.  By my standards Rush is what we call a quack, regardless of his academic background."

     Washington smiled weakly as Rosenbaum gave him an injection.  Then Rosenbaum turned to Martha and said, "I am going to stay for a few days to make sure he is getting better.  I've taken a room at an inn near here."

      "Nonsense," Martha said briskly.  "We have plenty of space here to put up a visitor who makes my husband whole again."

     Washington recovered, and lived another seven years, dying following a series of heart attacks the same month Rosenbaum also passed on.  Benjamin Rush sent newspapers in Philadelphia and New York letters attacking Rosenbaum with suggestions that Washington would have lived even longer had he been treated with Rush's depletions.  Television broadcasts ended with live coverage of Washington's funeral, as there were too few television sets still functioning to make broadcasts worth the effort.  Television did not resume for over ninety years.

     The Louisiana Purchase in 1803 increased the size of the United States by about thirty percent.  Completion of the transaction in December was followed about two months later by the unexpected appearance in the new federal capitol of three men bearing documents purporting to be from the legislature of Arkansas, asking for admission as a state.  Included were the papers of a census showing Arkansas had a population of 132,000 residents, exclusive of Indians.  The proposed state constitution banned slavery and gave women the vote.  No one outside NSMA had imagined such a population in the former French territory.

      The appearance of the three was met with confusion in Congress, and set off debates in several states.  Most disapproving was South Carolina, which definitely did not want yet another non-slavery state in an area where it had hoped for support.  The debate even reached into the taverns, where NSMA graduates supported Arkansas' bid to become the eighteenth state.

     "See here," the stranger was saying, "Arkansas has more people right now than Vermont or Delaware.  Obviously they are entitled to be admitted."

     "Thet's if you believe their count.  Don't you think it odd the Frenchies could have so many people livin' there and not know it?"

     "But those names aren't French.  It's perfectly clear these are people from the States who moved there over the mountains, or down rivers, or whatever."

     "You're awful trustin'.  Maybe all those people is really Injuns, or escaped slaves, or somethin' like thet."

      "So what if part of their population is escaped slaves?  They're as entitled as the rest of us.  And the Indians already have two votes in Congress."

     "Or if they's Injuns, who needs more of the bloody beasts?"

     At the table behind the speaker a man pulled a pistol from his boot, aimed it at him, and fired.  The speaker fell forward onto his table, which tipped and dropped him and several drinks to the pressed dirt floor.  Most of the other patrons hit the floor voluntarily.  The bartender vanished behind the bar.  The gunman pocketed his pistol and snarled, "I'm sick of them damn Yankees and their bleedin' hearts givin' the country away to niggers and women.  It's white men who built this country, and kicked the damned lobsterbacks out, and if we got to fight to keep it for ourselves, then I'm ready to start the fight right here."

     Shouting and turmoil filled the tavern for a few moments.  Then the bartender reappeared, this time holding a musket.  He aimed it at the gunman.  "You'll very carefully put your pistol on the ground."

    The gunman slowly and reluctantly extracted the pistol and lowered it to the ground.  As chatter continued, two members of the town watch entered and placed him under arrest.  The scandal discouraged several members of Congress from voting against Arkansas until a fuller investigation could be made.  Following the vote to accept Arkansas as a state, three new people, two men and a woman, appeared with papers certifying they had been elected as Arkansas' new Senators and representative.  All three were clearly of African descent.  One, Rakim Green, was recognized by some veterans of the war.  While no one was shot, the turmoil in Congress persisted for months.  It was quickly realized, after Green's maiden speech to the Senate mentioned Arkasas' population was ninety percent escaped slaves, the original commission of three white men had been deliberately misleading.  There was an attempt to  unseat the three Arkansas members.  This came close to getting a majority in the Senate, but a two thirds margin was needed to unseat a member in either house.  It was Green who introduced legislation to charter the first railroad.  It was to run from Newark, NJ through Philadelphia, Trenton, Dover, Baltimore, Federal City (which some were insisting be renamed Washington), to Richmond, and Chapel Hill, with a branch extending from there to the Mississippi.

New York Times, November 4, 1848

     The election of Wade O. Larkin (47) of Pennsylvania as President and his running mate, Mabel-Anne Green (50) of Arkansas as Vice President, seems certain to lead to major changes in government policy if they adhere to anything close to their campaign promises.  A transcontinental railway and immediate statehood for California are just two of the changes which could lead America into a new position in the world.  Vice President Green is taking on votes for women and an end to slavery.  Just as controversial are Larkin's proposals to institute a federal tax on slaves, and to develop airships for cargo, passengers, and even defensive purposes. . .

 

Author's Note:  All 18th century persons mentioned in the above story are actual, documented historical individuals of the name and approximate age indicated in the story, with the exception of one whose name is partially changed because of a relative living in Florida today who would likely have a very negative response to seeing their shared name in print.