Chapter 7 of A Texas Son in Washington's Army

     They day in congress was just more men showing off their vocabulary. Adams spoke urgently of the need to adopt the Massachusetts militia, South Carolina and Pennsylvania raged against the idea, calling themselves loyal subjects of the crown. It made Carl’s stomach turn. They day was progressing with boastful speeches and even some pleading, but there was no progress. Just as Carl was getting ready to leave, thinking his dates must be off, a man barged in and walked straight to Samuel Adams. As he read the letter his head sank, his eyes teared up and he looked up, straight at Carl. Carl knew what the note said. Carl walked over to Sam and put his hand on his shoulder. “Bunker hill?” Carl asked. “Yes.” Sam said quietly. “Do you know what it says?” Samuel asked. John had walked over now too and inquired about the letter. Sam handed the letter to John. He was standing but a few lines in he sat down as if his knees could no longer hold the weight of his body. “I have never read the letter but I know what it says. General Warren is dead, Bunker Hill has fallen.” Sam nodded in the affirmative. John finished the letter and handed it off to the other Massachusetts delegates. “Gentlemen, GENTLEMEN!” John screamed as his eyes were filling with tears. “General Warren has fallen at Bunker Hill. Gage had his body bayonetted, stripped of clothing and beheaded. This is an insult with no ambiguity. What reason do you not now have for adopting the militia? What say you gentle cowards?” Carl liked the way Adams handled this. John seemed to have a temper. Carl knew rage was a powerful motivator. “This man was a Massachusetts man, a doctor, a patriot, a friend. What more could we ask of our fellow countrymen than to stand up to tyranny and say ‘No more!’. The ultimate price gentlemen, while we sit here arguing over loyalty, the crown slaughters its subjects.”

     Carl and Samuel left the meeting hall and began to walk. “I am sorry this has happened to your fellow men. I know Paul Revere is also a friend. How hard would it be to arrange a meeting between him and I? It is time to begin liberating Boston, and Washington will not be moving with his force for quite some time.” Sam looked at Carl. “Can you do it?” Carl thought about it. “Yes, I could kill Gage form 300 meters away and be gone before anyone knew where the shot came from, but I would need to kill his entire staff to be effective.” Sam looked down on Carl, since he was a full head taller than him. “You speak so effortlessly of killing and show no remorse.” Carl thought carefully on how to answer this next question. “America has had its share of warfare. I was one of her warriors. Now I am just a broken man out of time and out of place.” Sam grabbed Carl’s shoulder. “You are not out of time or place my new friend. You are where you belong.” Carl smiled. “Thank you sir. Let’s liberate Boston shall we.” Sam smiled widely. “Yes. Let us liberate Boston. Then let us liberate America.”

     That evening Carl and Jefferson arrived at the new lodging. Jefferson rented a full house. This would make meeting and planning easier. Carl had his own room. He placed his trickle charger out on the window ledge and plugged it into his phone. He left the phone off so it would charge easier. He placed his rifle in the corner of his room, wrapped in his camo blanket. He of course kept his pistols on him at all times. He removed his doublet and placed it on the bed, with both pistols in the pocket. He went down to see if there was anything he could help with. James was alone to take care of Jefferson and this house. He did not envy this task, nor the servitude. He would have to tolerate it though. The end would be soon enough, if you look at it in the grand scheme of things. Carl thought about that last dream. He was hoping he was following the spirit of the mandate even though slavery and the other item on Carl’s mind was never mentioned. Carl would press Abigail Adams to convince her husband that women should be equal under the law. When it is all said and done, America may avoid the mistakes of modernity.

     After dinner the same guests arrived within minutes of each other. Washington, both Adams cousins and Franklin. This time they brought someone else. Carl greeted them all as they walked into the main dining area where they would talk. Carl recognized the fifth person. Carl stood up and was about to ask why this man was here when Franklin held up his hand to silence Carl. “Mr. Houston, I am aware that our meetings are to be secret, but Doctor Rush is a trusted friend and he knows how to keep a secret. Before you protest, who do you think helped clean up that mess you made this morning?” Carl was taken back. The swiftness and professionalism these men had in taking care of each other was unlike anything Carl was used to seeing. Even in the Army when they weren’t operational it was generally every man for himself. He walked over to Dr. Rush and shook his hand. “Sir, it is an honor to meet you.” Carl shook his hand a little too long. Dr. Rush was to be the first surgeon general. Army history actually paid off in this regard. “Same for you Mr. Houston is it?” Carl confirmed this with a head nod. “I am very interested in the wounds you caused. The entry holes were small, very much smaller than a standard musket, but the exit wounds were larger and did not seem to correspond with the entry wounds.” Carl grinned. “The bullet I use tends to skirt bone and cartilage causing a scrambling effect in the body. Although it lacks the sheer stopping power of a musket ball it has increased accuracy, range, and lethality. The drawback is it can leave the target alive long enough to be a threat. Normally the procedure is two to the chest and one to the head. I was trying to conserve ammunition.” He looked at Franklin “I do not think we have the ability to reproduce them.” Franklin acknowledged this. “I have not had sufficient time to study the one you gave me. I suspect if I ask some more questions then perhaps I can see to recreation.” “I do not hold out hope Dr. Franklin. The primer or percussion cap as you would call it is not yet invented I am afraid. Carl looked at Dr. Rush as he said this to see how much they had told him. Apparently not everything. “Not invented yet?” Rush asked. “Gentlemen I assume you trust this man to hear everything I told you?” A consensus of aye’s and head nods confirmed this. Carl went upstairs, grabbed the phone and his rifle and one magazine. He walked into the dining room and did the whole thing over again.

     Once it was complete Carl looked at Dr. Rush and waited for his questions. “What medical training do you have Mr. Houston?” Rush asked. “First everyone please call me Carl although I dare to say I would ever be convinced to address the framers by their first name.” Carl chuckled to himself at the absurdity of it. “I have basic medical training in keeping people alive long enough to get them to a surgeon or doctor. Unfortunately medicine even in my time is short of a miracle cure, but by today’s measures it could be seen as miraculous.” Dr. Rush seemed disappointed. “I can offer one bit of advice. In the upcoming conflict if you can train Soldiers to stop the bleeding as soon as possible, you can save more lives. I would be happy to discuss some of the ways we manage trauma on the battle field in the future. That would be pertinent and important I think.” Dr. Rush was very interested in Carl’s take on how to stop bleeding more effectively. They both decided to shelve that discussion for a later time. Jefferson finally came down and everyone was present. Sam was the first to begin speaking once they had all settled down at the table. “It is my intention, and Carl’s also to liberate Boston as soon as possible.” Washington looked at Sam. “I have already began to raise an army of a thousand men at my own expense. We will be marching on Boston in a week’s time.” Carl solemnly bowed his head to Washington. “General,” Carl started to say before he was interrupted. “I am a Colonel Mr. Houston” Washington said. “Not for long General.” Carl replied. “General, Gage leaves Boston on his own. I remember that much from History and he survives long enough to be a true thorn in our side. My plan involves killing him, his staff, his officers, and everyone else who gets in the way. He will not leave Boston to come back later. He will never leave Boston.” The idea of officer assassination did not seem to sit well with Washington or Rush. Carl continued on. “I will need to build intelligence, which I believe Samuel has already done,“ He turned to acknowledge Sam, “ and once they are all together for your normal officers planning meetings I will move in, finish them off in less than thirty seconds and be gone before anyone is the wiser. I only need to plan egress routes and have a safe place to go once it’s done.” Now he completely turned to Sam. “Can the Sons of Liberty assist me in this endeavor? Sam stood as he said in a booming voice, “Carl my friend, the Sons of Liberty are at your service.”

     The next half hour was planning and coordination for Carl to move to Boston in the night. He would leave tomorrow night and travel would take a week as long as there were no interruptions. That would give Sam time to send a rider and inform Revere of the plans. Once that was done Carl wanted to make sure everyone was clear on how to handle information. “To the fathers of this soon to be nation,” Carl looked around the room as he help up an ale. “The knowledge you now hold is not only wondrous, but dangerous. The utmost secrecy must be upheld. First and foremost my safety and anonymity needs to be ensured. I will operate in darkness and hide in the day time. The nation will be created and you will all want to write about it. Everyone in this room is known, studied, admired and sometimes reviled” he inadvertently looked at John Adams and Jefferson as he said that “but I must never be spoken of, written of, or known of. The nation’s history must be free of my actions no matter what happens to me.” Everyone was quiet for a moment. Carl continued on. “It is my understanding secret societies exist, such as the free masons. My secret needs to be kept more than that. It needs to be so secret that everyone here must pledge to die before speaking my name. I cannot ever be made into a hero or a villain. I must be unknown and invisible. Gentlemen do I have your pledge?” Without hesitation Sam stood up and said “Carl who?” Everyone laughed and Carl accepted that. “Now gentlemen, let’s free Boston and free America.”

     Carl spent the next day at the house. He decided he wanted his face seen as little as possible. That gave him some time to spend with James. He asked James to see him in the kitchen so he could snack on a carrot while he talked. “James, I know you hear everything. I assume Mr. Jefferson thinks your loyalty is assured, but I need to ask. Are you able to keep my existence a secret?” James looked frightened. “Yes a sir, I keep secrets good.” Carl recognized that fear in his voice. Similar to the sound he would make when his father asked him pointed questions. Carl had no intention of being aggressive, but realized how he must come off to someone who has little control over their life. “James you are in no danger from me. I just want you to understand how important this is.” James began to settle down and nodded his head. “I can keep your secret Mr. Houston.” “Excellent James. You are a good man. Wanna hear another secret?” James stepped closer to hear Carl as his whispered the last response. “Sally is your sister correct?” Carl asked. James nodded. “Your sister, if I do my work correctly, will usher in freedom for slaves. If I fail, then the Civil War will happen, and that will end slavery.” James could not understand how Sally could stop Slavery. “This is important James. I need you to tell Sally one thing, not about me, but about her.” James still inched closer, very curious now. “Tell her that when she has the opportunity to go to Jefferson in Paris, that she should accept. She should involve herself with Jefferson, for that will be the catalyst to ending this the right way. If I win, Sally becomes Jefferson’s bride and the first black First Lady. This will most likely get Jefferson assassinated, but it will begin something bigger than all of us. True liberty, not white liberty, but true liberty.” With this information, James seemed reticent to speak. Carl put his hand on James’ shoulder and departed.

     Carl went back to his room and finished his carrot. He began to double check his gear. He was being obsessive about his gear now. It was all irreplaceable. He needed to conserve and keep everything in working order. He placed the tourniquets in the outer pocket to make them accessible, and he stacked the magazines in the two side pockets. Bullet side down for full mags was the standard for his unit, and they only went in upside down when they were empty or not full. He continued to use that same system. His woobie was rolled up and attached to the top of the pack by the two parachute straps used for jumping. Most Soldiers just used them to hold the things they couldn’t stuff in their bag. He paced the floor all day, not wanting to leave the house but also bored to hell. He began thinking ahead of the incursion. He would need to document a few things for Washington when he becomes president. A full accounting of the future to the best of his ability would be a good thing. He decided he would give Washington with a journal that he would begin, and leave for future presidents to fill in. He then began to filter out the things that should be known, and not known. There are so many yet he was reticent to try to overwhelm the framers with knowledge. That could actually create a more oppressive document in an attempt to stop the course America took. Carl decided to do a top five, with footnotes for lesser issues. He looked around and realized there weren’t exactly note books and pens available. He would need to commission a book. That meant he would need money. Once again he was wondering how to monetize his services, even though he had no idea how to market himself. For now he could hunt for his food, boil water and put it in his water bottle, and that would have to suffice.

     Carl found a kettle and went to the fire place. James had started the fire earlier, though it was summer. Above the fire was a rod Carl recognized from old movies. It was used to hang pots and kettles. He hung the kettle and let the water boil. He used a fire poker to remove it and allowed it to cool off, then refilled his water bottle. Everything was now set. He was fully prepared for a long stay out in the summer, but come winter he would be needing more clothing. Carl’s brain never shut off. He was always thinking of how to improve. He decided he would rehearse his actions, since rehearsals are where Soldiers make the money. He cleared his rifle, slung it, and stepped outside his door. He then realized he had never self-breached a door before. Normally there is a team or squad and the one who breaches and the first man to enter were usually not the same. He thought about this. The likely hood of the door being locked is slim. He rehearsed opening the door, rushing in and he simulated ten trigger pulls. He was deliberate and practiced coming in with a left button hook and a smooth movement to the right. Until he saw the inside of the room and the furniture set up, he would have no idea how to actually handle the situation. He remembered seeing a documentary on the SEAL team that took out Bin Laden. They recreated the building and rehearsed on it for some time before executing the raid. He would not have such assets at his disposal. He would also have to use close quarters violence which was not his specialty as a former Artilleryman. He was in an infantry role in Iraq and he trained house clearing and the tenants of close quarters battle; speed and violence of action. Carl did the drill for about an hour until he felt confident in his ability to maneuver obstacles.

     The evening was upon him and Carl’s stomach began making that sound it made whenever he neglected himself. He went down stairs to the dining area where James had prepared the evenings meal. Jefferson never did anything of import for himself Carl noted. Tonight would be his last night in this house. Tomorrow he would begin his movement to Boston. Today the congress most likely adopted the Massachusetts militia and then Washington would take charge of his troops. This would also be the last chance to coordinate communication between himself and Washington. He knew both Adams’ would need to stay here. Revere would have to be his go to guy. Hopefully he could save Revere from the humiliation that followed his military career. Carl went into the kitchen where James was hard at work. Looked like he managed to get some venison. Tonight would be different than the porridge concoction he had eaten several other times. “Where did you get the deer?” Carl asked James. James smiled. “I shot it when I was out early this morning finishing up that task Mr. Jefferson gave me. The cleanup sir.” James said. Carl having never really studied the nuance and details of slavery realized that this slave was trusted with a musket. That is a special kind of power and control. “James, does Mr. Jefferson mistreat you?” Carl asked curiously. “No sir. I talk with other negros who are slaves and the beatings are brutal sir. I cry for my fellow negros who have masters who treat them like less than men.” Carl seemed to get the idea that James, although property, was at least not treated inhumanely, aside from being owned. “James do you have reservations about what we discussed?” Carl asked. “No sir. It seems like you understand what is supposed to happen. I place my trust in you and god.” Carl was taken back. He forgot how pervasive the idea of god was. “James, god isn’t going to save you. Men will. Oh and one woman, although if I am successful, Ms. Tubman will probably never be a household name. I think that is preferable.” James looked at him, not understand exactly what he meant or who Tubman was, but he said nothing. He had become accustomed to not understanding half of what Carl said for both contextual purposes and vocabulary.

     Upon Jefferson’s return he met with Carl in the dining room. Jefferson informed Carl they vote to adopt the militia went through, and Washington was now General of the Continental Army. So far nothing had changed. As far as Carl knew history was still moving as it had before. Soon Sam showed up alone. He had a horse satchel with him which he gave to Carl. “Here you will find bedding, clothes, some food for travel and most importantly correspondence. I will make the journey with you and then return to finish up with the second congress.” “Did you by chance get me my own horse?” Carl wondered. Jefferson now spoke. “You will have James’ horse. I will purchase him a new one for the trip back to Monticello. You have more need of this horse now than we do.”

     An evening of some laughter, some somber silence and some very gamey tasting venison ended and the pledges were complete. The plans were made for the short term, and the rest would depend on Carl’s success. If he succeeded history would change and his ability to predict what came next would be diminished. Carl tried to sleep because he knew it would be a long week’s travel to Boston. This may be the last bed he slept on for some time. Carl, the possibility of failure is high. You have chosen to risk high reward with the very real possibility of failure. If you fuck this up, you will be dooming an entire country. Carl was one to always put too much pressure on himself and that trend would continue. Failure was his only true fear. The failure he felt as a husband and a leader when he lost Halfapple haunted him. He failed to be there as a father and now his daughter was growing up somewhere without him. Every bad decision he had ever made manifested in his mind at warp speed. He finally drifted off to sleep and hoped he would not be visited by any trees.

     Carl was awaken by a bright beam of light. It surrounded him. He looked around and he was back at the tree. The woman was next to the trunk and the pool at the base was slightly larger than before. The lady pointed at him but said nothing. “Why are you doing this? Why am I the person you chose for this task?” He began to aggressively walk towards the lady. As he approached the tree, the color and mood changed from dark and somber to red and bloody. The anger on her face was more visible. “Do not deny me. King George must die. You are straying from your task. Slavery will end with civil war. You are not to interfere with the formation of the country, only to hasten the pace of independence. The tree of Liberty must be refreshed.” Carl thought about this. “Screw you. Slavery is not liberty. Another eighty years in chains does not make the country stronger, it makes it weaker. All you care about is blood and sacrifice. I quit worshiping god because it was self-evident it did not exist. Why should I listen to your new but equal form of oppression?” At this point the lady began to glow red. No wind, no flowing hair, just an intense red glow. “Do not fail me Carlton Houston. You exist to fight the tyranny I assign you. You will do as you are told.” In an instant she cleared the gap between them and put her hand around his throat. “Freedom is scary. Liberty is brutal. Oppression is life. The struggle must be continuous or the will to fight will vanish.” With that flashes of fat lazy Americans flashed before his eyes. A country so well off and affluent that they allow the government to grow in power every day. Politicians cackled as they counted money and created bills for corporations. “The enemy of the people is a ruling class. Whether elected or divinely selected. Humans need to be free, and to appreciate that freedom, they must fight. A continuous struggle is the only way to create true freedom. You cannot perfect this process with a piece of paper. It must be a desire. People must be oppressed to want freedom. Freedom with no oppression breaks people.” Carl’s vision shook him. “I refuse the idea that killing other humans is the only way to have liberty. The struggle must be won or why even fight?” The lady picked him up by the throat and looked into his eyes. “When you quit fighting, you quit being free” and she threw him with an inhuman strength. When he landed he woke up in his bed. His throat hurt and swallowing was difficult. Any moment I will wake up from the real dream. Carl laid back down in the bed. Light was beginning to shine through the window. He got dressed and went down stairs where James was already preparing some eggs for breakfast. “Good morning Mr. Houston.” James said jovially. “You don’t have to call me mister, James. Please call me Carl. We are equal.” Jefferson came into the room as Carl said that. “You keep speaking as if the negro and the white man are the same Carl.” Carl did not want to get into this now. It was too soon, and the priority was independence. He would not risk his plan. He wasn’t going to do what some dream told him to do, he was going to follow his conscious. “Many things change with the passage of time. One of those is the idea of ‘all men are created equal, and endowed by their creator with unalienable rights’” Carl said the passage that all children learned in school. His daughter was not being taught this and it pissed him off. The more he thought about it, the more he got angry with Jefferson. “Who said that?” Jefferson asked. Carl grinned wickedly. “You did. You said it. You will write it down on the most important document ever written on the face of the Earth. But you will fail to live up to that ideal. That is why I show open hostility to you. Start with the supposition that this statement is correct. Then extend that supposition to the fact that all humans on this earth are capable of the same action and emotion. Women too for that matter. We elected a black president who won against a woman. She later ran again and lost to a walking tan.” Jefferson once again did not understand the reference. “A walking tan?” “Never mind. Just understand that if you write it, you have to live it.”

     Carl finished his eggs and went to his room to gather his gear without another word. He took his new saddle bags and gear and placed it on the horse. James helped him secure everything properly and showed him the best way to fit out a horse for travel. The Rifle was in the saddle bag with the barrel concealed by burlap. The pistols were in his pockets, revolver on the left, Beretta on the right. He put on his Tricorn had and immediately felt like he was at a renaissance fair. The idea of him traveling to Boston immediately made him think of his favorite punk band. The rest of the trip the song “Shipping Up to Boston” played in his head relentlessly as he rode alongside Samuel Adams. The trip took about two weeks. During the trip they rode, talked and were jovial. The occasional Ale kept the two in good spirits during the trip.