Good fortune, karma, luck, or Providence. You decide. Providence is defined as a manifestation of divine care or direction in the affairs of mankind with wise benevolence.
The French and Indian War occurred twenty years before the American Revolution. It was the British against the French; the Americans sided with the British; and most of the Indians sided with the French. Both Great Britain and France disputed each others' claims of territorial ownership along the Ohio and Mississippi rivers; both of them claimed the same land. Unable to settle the dispute diplomatically, Great Britain sent hand-picked, veteran British troops to America under the command of General Edward Braddock to rout the French.
Edward Braddock was born the son of Major-General Braddock in January of 1695 and at the age of 15 he was appointed ensign, second lieutenant in his father’s regiment. Following in his father’s footsteps, Edward spent his entire career as an officer in the British army and in 1754, at the age of 60, he was promoted to Major-General. Shortly thereafter he was sent to America to remove the French from the Ohio valley, more specifically from their newly constructed fort, Fort Duquesne (what is now downtown Pittsburgh).
General Braddock and his troops landed in Hampton, in the colony of Virginia where they spent several months gathering provisions for their march. To assist them in navigating the unfamiliar territory the general also enlisted 100 Virginian militia, the Buckskins, who were led by a 23 year old colonel. The young colonel served as a volunteer officer and aide-de-camp, a fancy title for “assistant,” to the General.
On July 9, 1755, the column of 1,300 British redcoats crossed the Monongahela River, only 7 miles from Fort Duquesne at the forks of the Ohio River. They unexpectedly collided with a French and Indian force who rushed to oppose their crossing. The British were veterans; they knew exactly what to do. The problem was, they were veterans of European wars. European warfare was all in the open. One army lined up at one end of an open field, the other army lined up at the other end, they looked at each other, took aim, and fired. No running, no hiding.
The initial exchange favored the British, killing the French commander and causing some of the Canadian militia to flee. However, the remaining Indian/French force reacted quickly, running down the flanks of the column, putting General Braddock and his men between a deadly cross fire.
Their traditional method of fighting, by lining up and firing, left them easy targets. They were not fighting in Europe, they were in the Pennsylvania woods with the French and Indians firing at them from the tops of trees, from behind rocks, and from under logs.
It was a slaughter and the soldiers knew it. They were trapped like a wild animal caught in a snare, there was no chance of escape, let alone victory. General Braddock rallied his men to stand their ground time after time, but as the morning wore on they continued to suffer terrible losses.
At the end of two hours, 714 of the 1300 British and American troops had been shot down; only 30 of the French and Indians had been shot.
There were 86 British and American officers involved in that battle; all on horseback. By early afternoon most of the officers or their mounts had been shot. General Braddock, fell at last, mortally wounded by a shot through the chest. His aide, the young colonel, his own horse shot out from under him for the second time, ordered several nearby soldiers to load their wounded leader into a cart and instructed them to move him beyond the tree-line.
The French/Indian force had been ordered to shoot any who was on horseback. An effective strategy, one designed to eliminate their opponent's officers / leaders. With the fall of their General, the British infantrymen panicked and began to flee. The haze of spent gunpowder blurred their vision and burnt their eyes. The cries of indians and screams of the wounded being scalped added to the horrific scene.
The young colonel then did the unthinkable. He found a riderless mount and climbed up into the saddle. Sitting tall on his mount he quickly surveyed the narrow valley. He was the only officer still riding and therefore the prime target for his enemies. What should he do? What could he do? He was not a British officer. He had no authority, but their situation was becoming more perilous by the second. Something had to be done, someone had to lead. He kicked his heels to spur his horse and with a torrent of bullets tearing through the air he raced back and forth issuing orders. His men, more familiar with fighting from the trees, took up positions in the woods and attempted to provide cover for the British soldiers. The colonel gathered the remaining British troops and managed to retreat.
That night, somewhere on the road to Fort Cumberland, field surgeons and others did their best to care for the wounded. Amid the screams of agony the young colonel, accompanied by a handful of his loyal Buckskin militia gathered around a fire burning in an open pit. By the light of the fire he found a bullet hole, shot clear through the sleeve of his coat. He removed the coat and held it up to the light of the fire. To his amazement there was not one, but four bullet holes in his coat.
One of the few surviving British officers drew near to the camp and asked, “can you tell me where your colonel is?"
Several Buckskins glanced his direction. The light of the fire shone on their faces and flickered in their eyes. They said nothing. Perhaps they were leery of the unfamiliar visitor, or simply too exhausted to answer. Besides the colonel was in their midst, he could answer for himself.
The officer removed his hat. "I would like to thank the colonel for his courage. If not for his bravery today, many more of my soldiers would have perished." He bowed his head and humbly acknowledged, "perhaps, all of us would be dead."
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Fifteen years later, in 1770 -- a time of peace -- the colonel, now nearly 40 years old, and a close personal friend, Dr. James Craik, returned to those same Pennsylvania woods. An old Indian chief, having heard he had returned, traveled a long way just to meet with him. They sat down, and face-to-face over a council fire, the chief told them:
“I have traveled a long and weary path that I might see the young warrior of the great battle....I am come to pay homage to the man who is the particular favorite of Heaven, and who can never die in battle.”
The chief further explained that the colonel had been singled out, and said he personally had shot at him seventeen different times, but without effect. Believing the man to be under the care of the Great Spirit, the chief instructed his braves to cease firing at him.
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Sitting by the fire, having suffered a horrific defeat, the young colonel humbly reflected on the events of the day. He stood and shook out his coat before folding it over his arm. "How's the General?"
"Not well. He is near death." The British officer replied. "To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?"
"I'm deeply saddened to hear that." The colonel tipped his hat and extended his right hand. "Washington, Colonel George Washington."
The British officer clasped Washington's hand and vigorously thanked him.
On July 18th, several days later, General Braddock had died from his wounds, and the remaining infantry men were still recovering from their harrowing experience. George Washington took a few minutes to write a letter to his family explaining that after the battle was over, he had taken off his jacket and had found four bullet holes through it, yet not a single bullet had touched him; several horses had been shot from under him, but he had not been harmed. He then wrote the following words, “By the all powerful dispensations of Providence, I have been protected beyond all human probability or expectation.”
Washington openly acknowledged that God's hand was upon him, that God had protected him and kept him safe through the battle. Some may ask, why does it matter? While others will choose to deliberately ignore or downplay any and all evidence that this great country was conceived, nurtured, guided and protected by the hand of the Almighty God.
It matters who we are and where we’ve come from, both as individuals and as a nation, because that is the foundation upon which our futures must be built if we are to reach our full potential. The knowledge of our origins and of our divine pedigree is the engine, and our patriotism the fuel burning within us, which will launch us and our great nation beyond the carnal pull of mediocrity and propel us to new heights, even celestial destinations.
“God Bless America, Land that I love.”
Postscript: You probably already know the rest of the story, but George Washington was preserved on several other occasions by the provident hand of the Almighty God. And not many years later he would lead the ragged and tattered army of a fledgling nation into battle, where they would defeat the world’s most powerful military, under the same provident hand of God.
“No people can be bound to acknowledge and adore the invisible hand, which conducts the affairs of men, more than the people of the United States. Every step by which they have advanced to the character of an independent nation seems to have been distinguished by some token of providential agency.”