What are you fighting for?

Just a historical fiction story I wrote for Language Arts class...

What Are You Fighting For?

by Maia Bomar

They say it takes a village to raise a child. For me, it was an army.

In the May of 1765 , my mother had passed away, and my father didn’t know how to properly raise a young boy. So he raised me the only way he knew how. Along with his fellow soldiers, my father taught me how to shoot a musket, load a cannon, and ride a horse. In my father’s opinion, those were the only things a soldier needed to know how to do. Since my father was the only man I looked up to, I believed him.

I got my first taste of battle in 1775, in the Battle of Bunker Hill. I was only 17 years old, still ripe in age. Father ran into our house early in the morning and told me to grab my musket, and meet him in the barn. I slipped into my trousers and jacket and sprinted to the horse barn, which was also owned by our close neighbors. When I got to the barn, there were already 15 men and young boys waiting with muskets. Some of them on horses, others just on their feet. My father, a farmer, was giving a pep talk.

“Remember my fellow patriots, today is the day we stand tall. As Americans. As patriots. And as men!” All of the men cheered, clapped and whooped with happiness. All of the men ran to their horses, climbing onto the saddles and riding out the barn doors. Before I had a chance to climb on to my palomino, Jackson, someone called my name.

“Andrew,” My father was now rushing towards me, obviously needing to tell me something, “This is your first battle. Take it slow. Remember at all times to use your natural instinct. You were born with it.” He said it with a smile as mounted his horse and rode off.

I remember it as clear as day. Smoke and blood mixed together in a haze.Cries of pain and heartbreak every way you turned. Galloping around on Jackson, trying to avoid the bodies that somehow won’t stop dropping like flies.

“Andrew!” I hear someone scream. I turn around to see my father, who had fallen off of his horse. I turned Jackson around and galloped towards my father. The closer I got, the more dreadful my father looked. His stomach had a gunshot wound, just below his right pectoral.

    “Father! What happened?” I cried.

    “I appear to have gotten caught in range of fire.” He said with a cringe, “Andrew, you need to fight. Fight for our country. Fight for our freedom. Fight for,” he took a struggled breath, “you.”

    For a moment all of the gunshots stopped. The crying and screaming stopped. The world stopped. The last word echoed in my head, over and over. I realized what I had to do.

    I sprung up, grabbing my dead father’s legs. I drug him behind a tree, kissed him on the forehead, then sprinted back to Jackson.

    That was the day that I became a man. I lost the one man I had looked up to my entire life. His words still remain in my head, and heart, today.

    That next year, 1776, I met a woman. Her name was Elizabeth Wilson, and she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I had met her after I had moved from Charlestown to Trenton, New Jersey. We met at a ball at her uncle’s house, who had been good friends with my father. We were married that spring, the happiest young couple in Trenton!

    In the November of 1776, I got a letter formally addressed from General Washington himself. It said he would like to recognize me for my outstanding leadership in the Battle of Bunker Hill. He wanted me to join the efforts to defeat the British, this time in my town.  I told Elizabeth that I wanted to go back to the the military, and she fully respected me and my decision.

    The next day I was back in action, in a tent at the base. I met General Washington, and he said that we were planning an attack that was set to happen in late December. To be exact, on Christmas Day.

    We had been planning this for weeks when Christmas Eve finally came. That night, I went home to find Elizabeth in the sitting room.With a smile on her face she told me,

    “ When you come home tomorrow, I have big news for you.” I was excited to hear what she had to say!

That night the base was on full-attack mode. Boys and men talking of battles, wounds, and the deaths of their friends. That was when I asked myself, “What has the world come to?”

    Before I could answer my question, General Washington shouted a command,

    “Board the boats, men!” As the men boarded the boats on the icy river, I began to realize how cold the air really was. My body shivered, and I started to walk towards the boats.

    Watching the boats start to slide across the ice water was a beautiful sight. Men in the front hacking away at the ice in front of them. Men sitting in the middle and back of the boats paddling with wood oars.

    When we got to the other side of the Delaware, we could see the lanterns by the tavern for the redcoats. Washington motioned towards me and a few other men, and we got out of the boats.

    “We are going to slowly walk into the tavern and see who is in there. Sound all right?” We all nodded, and slowly started walking towards the tavern through the crunchy snow.

    We came up to the door, and Washington pushed open the door with a small creak. We all peeked inside, only to see a bunch of redcoats drunk. Singing, fistfights, and dancing were some of the things we saw and heard.

    After we took the boats back to the other side of the river, I rushed home so I could see Elizabeth on Christmas Day.

    When I got there, Elizabeth was in bed. I did not want to wake her up, and decided to go to the tavern. At the tavern, there was General Washington, drinking a whiskey.

    “Andrew! Good job tonight,” He said when he saw me, “I really think we might be winning this, but then sometimes I can’t even remember what I am fighting for.”

    “General Washington. We are fighting for our country. We are fighting for our freedom. We are fighting for us.” I said with pride, “My father told me that at my first battle. He died right after that. I am fighting for him.”