and ran as sheep before hounds, leaving the artillery, ammunition,
provisions, baggage, and, in short, everything a prey to the
enemy. And when we endeavored to rally them, in hopes of regaining
the ground and what we had left upon it, it was with as little
success as if we had attempted to have stopped the wild bears of
the mountains, or rivulets with our feet; for they would break by,
in despite of every effort that could be made to prevent it.

The General was wounded in the shoulder and breast, of which he
died three days after; his two aids-de-camp were both wounded, but
are in a fair way of recovery; Colo. Burton and Sr. John St. Clair
are also wounded, and I hope will get over it; Sir Peter Halket,
with many other brave officers, were killed in the field. It is
supposed that we had three hundred or more killed; about that
number we brought off wounded, and it is conjectured (I believe
with much truth) that two thirds of both received their shot from
our own cowardly Regulars, who gathered themselves into a body,
contrary to orders, ten or twelve deep, would then level, fire and
shoot down the men before them.[1]

[Footnote 1: Ford, I, 173-74-75.]

In this admirable letter Washington tells nothing about his own
prowess in the battle, where he rode to all parts of the field, trying
to stem the retreat, and had two horses shot under him and four bullet
holes in his coat. He tried to get the troops to break ranks and to
screen themselves behind rocks and trees, but Braddock, helpless
without his rules, drove them back to regular formation with the flat
of his sword, and made them an easy mark for the volleys of the enemy.
Washington's personal valor could not fail to be admired, although his
audacity exposed him to unjustified risks.

On reaching Fort Cumberland he wrote to his brother John, on July
18th:

As I have heard, since my arrival at this place, a circumstantial
account of my death and dying speech, I take this early
opportunity of contradicting the first, and assuring you, that
I have not as yet composed the latter. But, by the all-powerful
dispensations of Providence, I have been protected beyond all
human probability and expectation.[1]

[Footnote 1: Ibid. 175-76.]

The more he thought over the events of that day, the more was he
amazed--"I join very heartily with you in believing," he wrote Robert
J