ghter of the officers was terrible.

Throughout this disastrous day, Washington distinguished himself by
his courage and presence of mind. His brother aids, Orme and Morris,
were wounded and disabled early in the action, and the whole duty of
carrying the orders of the general devolved on him. His danger was
imminent and incessant. He was in every part of the field, a
conspicuous mark for the murderous rifle. Two horses were shot under
him. Four bullets passed through his coat. His escape without a wound
was almost miraculous. At one time he was sent to the main body to
bring the artillery into action. All there was likewise in confusion;
for the Indians had extended themselves along the ravine so as to
flank the reserve and carry slaughter into the ranks. Sir Peter Halket
had been shot down at the head of his regiment. The men who should
have served the guns were paralyzed. Had they raked the ravines with
grapeshot the day might have been saved. In his ardor, Washington
sprang from his horse, wheeled and pointed a brass field-piece with
his own hand, and directed an effective discharge into the woods; but
neither his efforts nor example were of avail. The men could not be
kept to the guns.

Braddock still remained in the centre of the field, in the desperate
hope of retrieving the fortunes of the day. His secretary, Shirley,
had fallen by his side. Five horses had been killed under him; still
he kept his ground, vainly endeavoring to check the flight of his men,
or at least to effect their retreat in good order. At length a bullet
passed through his right arm, and lodged itself in his lungs. He fell
from his horse, but was caught by Captain Stewart, of the Virginia
guards, who, with the assistance of another American and a servant,
placed him in a tumbril. It was with much difficulty they got him out
of the field--in his despair he desired to be left there.

The rout now became complete. Baggage, stores, artillery, everything
was abandoned. The wagoners took each a horse out of his team and
fled. The officers were swept off with the men in this headlong
flight. It was rendered more precipitate by the shouts and yells of
the savages, numbers of whom rushed forth from their coverts and
pursued the fugitives to the river side. Fortunately for the latter,
the victors gave up the pursuit in their eagerness to collect the
spoil. The shattered army continued its flight after it had crossed
the Monongahela, a wretched wreck