Revolution: A novel

Here’s another assignment of mine for English writing.


15, 1775

whomever finds this journal on my dead body, this is my story. I am a
simple man, just a farmer. My neighbors and I share the feelings of
love and loyalty for our country. I grew up like most do, feeding the
animals and doing other chores. For the past week, I have been hiding
in my barn. The American recruiters came to Lexington. I wanted to
sign up, but my mother wouldn’t let me. Anyhow, the recruiters told
me that I looked much too young to join the army. Since the
skirmishes started, I have had a personal hero I will always look up
to, Benedict Arnold. He is brave and strong. The soldiers look up to
him and follow his orders with a smile. If I could do anything in the
world, I would be a soldier fighting alongside Benedict.

the recruiters will come again, looking for more men and boys to
fight for the American cause. I will try again to join the army. I
hope they will let me. I’ve heard rumors that there are different
recruiters from time to time, some nicer than others. I really hope
they will let me in.

16, 1775

recruiters were different today! I told them what the other
recruiters had told me, that I looked too young to join the army.
They nodded thoughtfully and talked amongst themselves for a few
minutes. After what seemed like hours, they came back to me, smiling.
I thought that they would let me into the army. Much to my dismay,
they told me that there was some good news and some bad news. They
asked which I would like to hear first. I answered that I would like
to hear the worst news first. They told me that I couldn’t legally
join the army and so I would have to wait a few years. I was saddened
by this bit of news, I had thought that they would tell me I could.
Then they told me the good news. I could become part of Lexington’s
militia force! It wasn’t too big, but I knew everyone there.

17, 1775

afternoon was the first meeting of the militia! We met in the
schoolhouse and surprisingly, the leader of the militia here in
Lexington is one of my old school teachers! He retired from teaching
a few years ago and became a military leader. I am glad to have
someone I know and trust so well leading me and my fellow militia
members. Anyway, my teacher, Mr. Gates, gave us all a talk on how to
use a gun, followed soon after by a demonstration. I was surprised at
how well Mr. Gates demonstrated loading and firing a gun. But, I
reasoned, he is a school teacher after all. He asked how many of us
had fired or laid hands upon a gun before. I of course, raised my
hand. Most of the men around raised their hands as well. There were a
few timid, pink-cheeked men from the bank who didn’t raise their
hands though. This didn’t surprise me at all.

Mr. Gates had already set up
hay bales outside in the school yard. There were wooden circles with
circles painted on them for targets. Everyone was handed a gun and
was told to find a hay bale to shoot at. After everyone had evened
out, I noticed that I was the only one at my hay bale while at every
other hay bale, three men stood in line, waiting to fire. I shrugged
it off, knowing that I would most likely fire much better without the
added stress of other people behind me.

Gates paced back and forth in front of us and told us to fire when he
gave the signal. The best five shots would fire again. The next best
two shots would fire again, resulting in a winner and a loser.
“Fire!” came the signal. I carefully sighted down the barrel and
pulled the trigger on my rifle. The bullet whizzed away, hitting the
target head on. After everyone had shot, the scores were tallied up.
To my surprise, I was one of the best five shots! Now there was a man
to a hay bale, no lines. I saw where bullets had hit sides of the
target, chipping pieces off.

carefully aimed down the barrel and shot again as the signal came.
The scores were again tallied up, and I was one of the top two
shooters! In the next round however, I lost. In my nervousness, I
aimed too far left and missed the target completely. My opponent
didn’t do much better, he only hit the outside of the target. My
opponent and I were congratulated. We all went back into the
schoolhouse and listened to Mr. Gates talk of battle strategies such
as flanking and others. Finally, we were all sent home to get a good
night’s rest.

18, 1775

will never guess what happened tonight! A man called Paul Revere came
riding into Lexington in the dead of night, hollering that some
redcoats were approaching the city. The militia gathered into the
townhouse. There were a few men who were fully dressed and awake, but
for the most part, everyone looked sleepy and disheveled. A scout was
sent up the road by Mr. Gates to scout the British position. While
the scout raced away on horseback, the rest of the militia was
ordered to line up on the town green. We stood there for a few hours
waiting for the scout to come back. When the scout came back, he
reported that the British were far away and wouldn’t make it that
night. A sentry was posted and we all headed off to set up tents
which is where I am writing this.

19, 1775

morning the British arrived in Lexington! The sentry of that time
alerted Mr. Gates, who in turn awoke the men. Everyone looked much
better after even that short bit of sleep that we had gotten. We
assembled on the green and were just so when the British marched down
the road. Their leader, General Gage ordered us to get out of his
way, else he would order his men to fire. Mr. Gates declined the
offer and Gage called for his men to fire. We scattered, each taking
cover. It was every man for himself. If one man found a spot with
good cover and another man had none, the other man would pull out the
first, taking his cover. Mr. Gates told us to remember to function as
a team and help each other when one needed help. A few of the men
were hit, but the British were taken down in greater numbers. I
spotted a British officer shouting orders, pointing his curved sabre
at Mr. Gates. I assumed that he meant for his men to shoot Mr. Gates,
and at that moment I knew I had to do something. I made sure my rifle
was loaded and took aim. The early morning light that permeated the
smoky town green made it hard to judge the distance between me and
the officer, but I knew that I had limited time. I aimed as best I
could and squeezed the trigger. The officer fell from his horse and
the men around scrambled around, looking for the shooter. I took
cover and kept picking off more and more of the redcoats. Finally,
General Gage called for his men to stop firing. I was sore after the
long day, but am glad to have held the British back for the moment.
The other men were dirty and sweaty, but grinning all the same. Today
was a good day.

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Revolution: A novel

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