The Finale Stand
"Today was the day," I, Commander James Berman, thought as I walked briskly to my old dusty tent. I was called to a meeting not all of five minutes ago and was told that today we wage war. The British had burned another town and was making hasty pace to Charlestown. Our tiny band of soldiers, or should I say farmers, are the only thing between the people of Charlestown and their gruesome death. We had to buy them some time. The other two companies of soldiers were going to head towards Charlestown and set up at Fort Mc. Clauren. My boys and I are going to stay here and delay the British as much as possible. We want to make them pay for all the American boys they pursued and executed! My militia would remember those Americans and we will make the British fight and die for every inch of dirt!
The word of the coming battle had spread from tent to tent faster than you can say British dregs. I stepped out of my tent with my Springfield Musket in my hand and my silver saber on my hip. I looked left and right and saw my men step out of their tents, weapons in hand ready to face whatever danger may lie ahead. The air around us had a sense of honor and courage. My heart swelled at the thought that my men were willing to give their lives for people a hundred miles away that they probably wouldn't live to see. I walked to my hazel mare and swung up into my seasoned saddle. My men took my lead and soon I had all sixty-eight following me. As I sat upon that horse staring straight ahead I knew I was leading my men to their death. There were no words I could say to bring encouragement. They had chosen willingly to give their lives for their fellow Americans. To utter a word would bring disgrace to their choice and it would be meaningless.
My eyes strayed to the sky; today was such a radiant day there wasn't a cloud to be seen. I knew then the best place to hold our final stand. I turned my mare east; I knew exactly where it was. As we drew near, my men realized where we were headed. They started talking among themselves and soon even laughter was heard. Finally death did not hang over our heads like a hawk circling its prey. I came out of the woods onto a dirt road and gazed across a valley so green and lush. As my eyes scanned across the valley to the hill, one side rising so steep while the other sloped down gradually. The hill had no name, yet it was known for miles around, sitting one hundred yards off the dirt road. Woods circling it on three sides, the woods were as thick as a forest of Green Ashes.
A cheer came up from my men as they spurred their horses towards the hill. I held back for a moment before I joined in, but once the hope of seeing the sunrise of the next morning gets in you, all you can do is let loose a yell. Once we reached the hill my men knew exactly what to do. They set up camp and barricaded the woods so no enemy would get through easily. I chose eighteen men to guard the forest. The other fifty I needed up front. If we were going to fight the British I wanted to take out as many as I could in the first volley. We bunkered down in our camp waiting for the bloody brits and we will do what the militia does best, make them pay and never surrender.
I woke with a start to the sound of marching. I grabbed my boots and cursed the lookout as I yanked them on. Then I looked around and saw my men were sitting around campfires, trying to warm from the cold night before. I yelled to the closest group and one jumped up and ran over. He saluted me then told me they were five miles out and not close enough to see our fires. I told him to put them out, and get everyone into position, and to hold their fire until I return. I ran to my mare, swung into the saddle, and spurred my horse towards the sound of marching. As I drew near I left my horse behind and crept threw the woods towards the sound. I saw them then, not just a company or two, but a never ending line of red. My anger swelled inside me and I wanted to rush out and kill as many as I could, but I knew that wouldn't do any good. I sat there for a minute and estimated their number to be around two thousand. I crept back into the woods and as soon as I was out of sight I ran to my horse, leapt onto the saddle, and raced back to camp.
When I was back inside our barricade I leapt off my horse and hit the earth running. On my way to the crest of the hill I grabbed my musket. I threw myself to the ground and as I did, it knocked the air out of my lungs and I looked over the hill. There was not anything in sight but the green field. I looked around me and saw the shocked expression on my men's faces. "Get in control, James," I thought, they didn't need to know that we were not going to leave this place. I took a deep breath and gave them nods of encouragement. We waited about an hour then the first brits came around the bend. I heard the cocking or muskets I spun around and made sure it was known not to fire until I gave the order. After the first company went by I signaled for my men to get ready. I could almost smell the fear and courage that was taking a toll on my boys.
The second company was almost out of sight when I took aim down the sight of my gun and prepared myself. As soon as I had a clear shot anger filled me up and I pulled the trigger. Even before my shot was an echo the sound of fifty muskets hit my ears with a deafening roar. I watched as red dots fell to the ground. They immediately reacted and started shooting at the hill. They hit nothing; they couldn't see my men hiding behind the crest of the hill. Then we heard the horse's hooves beating the ground, and we watched as one hundred or more Calvary came charging across the field. I yelled to hold fire; I knew we had to wait for them to get closer. They came charging across the field, a wave of red fire rolling towards us. I waited until they were forty yards away then yelled, "Fire!" All our guns went off and my heart leapt as the red colors hit the ground as they were trampled by their mounts and their friends. "Fix bayonets," was the next words out of my mouth. The remaining Calvary raced up the hill and right at the crest they were met with cold hard steel. The bayonets tore through horse flesh and man like it was nothing. Then they were in front of and it was man on man. We fought like savages. If it's one thing militia can do, its hand to hand combat. After the last red coat from the Calvary was dead there were about thirty of us left. I looked over the hill but nothing was in sight except for the red dead bodies that littered the field. I turned to look at my men and instead I see red bodies pouring out of the forest. I yelled charge and ran towards the enemy. I flew across the ground towards the brits, and then I felt tugs at my body and time slowed. The sound of musket fire reached my ear and I fell to the ground. I tried to get up but I couldn't. The strength had left me. I looked down at my body and blood was gushing out of me. I looked up at the sky and the beautiful midday sun shined on me. As a smile spread across my face; I took my finale breath.
