Re: Soldier Of Fortune Game Hack
Katerine Aldrige
All I had to go on was his name, Horace Stretton, and we weren't quite sure where he lived. We believed he was from Illinois. I also had heard rumor that he had fought during the 1846-48 Mexican-American war. First I did some background research to actually understand what the war was about, as no textbook I had ever read in school talked much about it.
With a little background understanding of the conflict, I did a quick search online, typing in "Illinois + Mexican-American war." I was surprised at how many responses there were. I was able to read first-hand accounts from Illinois veterans at the front in 1846. If indeed old Horace had been there, he would've been lucky to survive considering the harsh conditions and rampant disease. From my quick online search I also located the Illinois State Archives Web site. I was hopeful they could help find out if Horace had really been there.
A trip to the state archives was easier than I imagined. I gave the reference number to the archivist and soon found myself reviewing reels of microfilmed Mexican War records. There was Horace! I learned everything from his rank and company to where he enlisted and where he was discharged.
I was disconcerted to read a note by the archivist that said: "Unfortunately the report originates from the 1881 transcriptions which have been found to be 'grossly inaccurate.'" Ho-hum. So I turned to the National Archive in Washington, D.C. and ordered a record of his military pension. I received it a few weeks later and his service was confirmed.
From my research I learned soldiers were given land rights upon their return (widows and orphans were, too). Land grant deeds left a huge paper trail and are stored in the Illinois archives. Maybe Horace took advantage of this.
I used up a few more vacation days with a return trip to the archives in Springfield, Illinois. There I found it on the microfilm! Horace Stretton's application for a military land grant. I could see his handwriting and find out his wife's name (we'd been spelling it all wrong all these years, it was Rosaline, not Rosalind). I also found out where the 160 acres was-and that it was complete with apple and plum trees. We located the general area of the site using a combination of old land grant maps (thank-you state archive once again) and a modern map. Then we drove there. It was now a new housing development. Sigh.
More than one hundred men sailed across the Atlantic in 1606 to found the Jamestown colony in Virginia. The roster for the expedition lists fifty-nine of them as "gentlemen." One of those gentlemen, Captain John Smith, wasn't born with his title. He earned it beheading three Turkish soldiers in a series of single combat duels. Suffice it to say, Smith was not your average English gentleman. Before he sailed for the Virginia wilderness and had his famous encounter with Pocahontas, Smith had been a mercenary, a pirate, a slave, and a mutineer.
Most of what we know about Smith's life before Jamestown comes from his The True Travels, Adventures, and Observations of Captaine John Smith (1630). He provides such a daredevil account of his life that critics have sometimes accused him of exaggerating his exploits. But by comparing Smith's own account with letters and documents of the time, scholars such as biographer Philip Barbour have confirmed his story and clarified it. It is an amazing story.
As a young boy, Smith idolized the British explorers such as Sir Francis Drake, who sailed around the world and plundered gold from Spain. "What more would be needed than the cry that the incomparable Drake was off again, to stir the adventurous spirit of thirteen-year old John Smith to action?" asks Barbour. Smith's father, a prosperous farmer in Lincolnshire, did not appreciate his son's wanderlust. After Smith made a number of attempts to run away, his father apprenticed him to a wealthy merchant, hoping to settle him down.
Smith, however, had something a little less conventional in mind. After his father died in 1596, he terminated his apprenticeship and struck out for the Continent, joining a company of English mercenaries that bounced from conflict to conflict. He spent time in France to help keep Henry IV on the throne and fought for the Dutch in their war of independence from Spain.
The time Smith spent abroad taught him that if he wanted to become a gentleman soldier he needed to improve his mind and his military skills. He immersed himself in classical military and political texts, taking Machiavelli and Marcus Aurelius as his models. Theodore Paleologue, the riding master to the Earl of Lincoln, taught him how to handle a horse, hold a lance, and speak Italian. He also passed on to Smith his hatred for the Turks.
In the summer of 1600, the twenty-year old Smith set out again for the Continent, looking for what he called "brave adventures" and a confrontation with the Turks. But before he could fight the Sultan, a chance meeting turned him into a pirate. After exploring France, he headed for Marseilles and booked passage for Italy-the quickest way to reach Hungary where the Austrians and Turks were fighting-only to have the ship sink during a storm. He washed up on an island off Cannes, where he was rescued by a Captain La Roche, whose crew discovered Smith when it came ashore for fresh food and water. Whether it was the prospect of earning money or the captain's charm, by the time the winds changed, Smith had joined La Roche's crew.
Like many French captains who plied the Mediterranean, La Roche engaged in both trade and piracy. After leaving French waters, his ship sailed past Corsica and Sardinia to Alexandria and, at the eastern reaches of the Mediterranean, Alexandretta, the most important trading post in the Levant. Smith was on a journey that few Englishman had made.
A spot of piracy on the way back to France made Smith a rich man. In the waters off Greece, La Roche hailed a Venetian ship and asked to speak with its captain. The Venetian ship interpreted the hail as a prelude to piracy and responded with its cannon. La Roche fired back, destroying the Venetian ship. As it sank, his crew "rescued" its cargo of silks, velvets, jewels, gold, and silver.
When Smith parted ways with the French captain after their four-month sea adventure, he had 500 zecchini in his pocket. After spending some of his new wealth touring Italy, Smith finally made his way to Graz, where he signed up with an Austrian division. In the summer of 1601, his personal campaign against the Turks finally began.
The time that Smith had devoted to studying and training allowed him to become an impressive and creative soldier. During the battle for Limbach, a German fortress town besieged by the Turks, Smith drew on his military readings to devise a signaling system that let his regiment communicate with the Austrian garrison trapped inside. Using the torches, the garrison was told that the Austrian forces sent to liberate them would charge to the east of the town after nightfall. The garrison should be ready to support their attack.
The night of the battle, Smith used string, cloth, and powder to create the illusion of two thousand matchlock muskets firing to the west of Limbach. In the pitch black night, the Turks mistook the flashes of light for an Austrian attack. They moved their forces to the west, leaving the eastern side of town relatively defenseless, and the Austrians moved in. When morning dawned, the Turkish commander realized he'd been defeated, lifted the siege, and retreated. For his contributions to the Austrian victory, Smith was promoted to captain and put in charge of a company of 250 men on horseback.
Smith's inventiveness continued. To help liberate Alba Regalis, the ancient Hungarian capital, he assembled what he called the "fiery dragons"-round earthen pots filled with gunpowder, covered with pitch, brimstone, and turpentine, and coated with musket bullets. Encased in an oil cloth, the pots were set on fire and flung into Turkish lines. As Smith recounted years later, "[I]t was a fearfull sight to be see the short flaming course of their flight in the aire, but presently after their fall, the lamentable noise of the miserable slaughtered Turkes was most wonderful to heare." The bombardment helped break the siege and allowed the Austrians to take the city after a few bloody days of house-to-house fighting. With winter setting in, the Austrian high command decided to send Smith's regiment to Transylvania. It was in Transylvania that one of the more extraordinary events in Smith's life occurred-one that earned him the title of "gentleman."
During the siege of Alba Iulia, waged to oust the Turks from the capital city, Smith engaged in three duels, each ending with the beheading of his opponent. The episode began when a Turkish captain, bored with the monotony of the siege, challenged the Christian officers to "combate with him for his head." Lots were drawn and the honor fell to Smith.
The Turk showed up in the no man's land between the armies dressed in his finest- "his shoulders were fixed with a paire of great wings, compacted of eagle feathers within ridge of silver, richly garnished with gold and precious stones." Smith dispatched him on the first pass. Upset by the loss of his captain, another Turk challenged Smith. The bout began with an exchange of blows and ended with pistol shots. Smith took a round in the breastplate, but his Turkish opponent suffered a debilitating blow to his arm, eventually collapsing. The final duel occurred when Smith gave the Turks a chance to redeem their honor. The contest was settled by the use of battle axes, with Smith triumphing once more. When Smith brought the three heads before the commanding Turkish general-each head mounted on a lance-he was embraced by the general and given a horse and a jewel-encrusted scimitar. The sweetest honor came from Prince Zsigmond Bthory of Transylvania, who granted Smith the right to wear "three Turkish heads" on his shield and bestowed on him the title of "English gentleman." John Smith had succeeded in exchanging "farmer" for "gentleman" by the swing of his sword.
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