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May 18, 1676
In the dark of night, a large company of soldiers stopped to water their horses at the edge of the Deerfield River. Samuel Stagg shivered from cold and fear, as thunder rumbled through the valley. He was regretting his agreement to join the militia and fight the Indians instead of spending another eight months in the Boston Gaol. He had been sentenced to a year in that hell-hole after he assaulted a shop owner to steal money from his till. He had only been pilloried for his first offense.
Samuel spread more mud on his face and neck and lit his tobacco pipe again, trying to ward off the incessant onslaught of mosquitoes and black flies. At least they gave him a horse to ride. He was one of a hundred fifty dragoons following old Captain Turner. They left from Hatfield early that morning. He felt miserable, having been drenched with cold rain for a few minutes every hour, all day long.
They made their way through the eerie ruins of the Deerfield Settlement, which the colonists had evacuated after a vicious attack by savages. Upon seeing the devastation, Samuel thought that God had certainly forsaken those poor settlers. They reached the shallows of the Deerfield River. The soldiers were told to pay attention to their surroundings so they would be able to find their way back to the Green River and Deerfield River fords after the battle. They were also told to be very quiet, because the savages might be watching the river fords. Samuel was pretty sure he would never find his way back on his own. The night was pitch black except for periodic flashes of lightning. If they retreated, he would just have to follow the others. Better yet, he could recognize the two guides they’d hired. He would follow them after the attack, if he was able.
After another two hours, the militia forded the Green River. They made very little noise while crossing, and the frequent thunder covered any noise from their horses. But Samuel still feared that savages would attack them at any moment. The men followed a brook upstream toward a swamp called White Ash. The formation came to a stop and the overall battle plan was explained. Three men would guard the horses at the Fall River ford. The rest would approach on foot over the nearby hill, and down to the Indian encampment on the Connecticut River. When given the signal, they would creep up to the huts and, simultaneously fire directly into them. After hearing the plan, they were divided into small groups and given specific orders. Samuel Stagg and Eli Cass were ordered to cross to the west side of the Fall River’s mouth. They were to kill any savages trying to get into their canoes and any that were hiding in the cliffs on the bank of the Connecticut River.
It took them the best part of an hour to get into position, but the men were ready just as dawn began to break. Samuel was shivering uncontrollably, and he didn’t think he would be very accurate in his shooting. He tried hard not to make any noise even when the black flies flew up his nose and into his eyes. As the sky became lighter, he was amazed at how large the Indian encampment was. The falls were beautiful, but soon this would become a place of death.