People yelled in every direction as we hurriedly dug trenches and put up fences as the Redcoats marched closer.  My body ached as we dug all night and into the morning with no rest. I was one of the youngest there at fifteen years of age.  Most of the militia was 17 or older.   As I was digging, my mind started to wander back home to my brother Samual,  sister Emily,  and my family. My mind  came to a conversation I had with my father many months ago. 

Father said in a strong straightforward tone , “ The government has ordered all men of your age to fight in this war” 

I said with fear  “ But father I don't want to fight “

I  remembered that after that,  I ran to my best friend Henry's house. 

I said in a panic stricken voice “ Henry we must hide the militia are looking for boys of fighting age to join the fight ”

Henry said in a shocked voice “ That can’t be true”.

Then all of a sudden Henry's parents came in, grabbed my arm and walked me home.  Gunshots in the distance brought me back to my dreadful reality .  I  got  my musket  and took aim, the British came  to around 50 yards. We all opened fire as the British fell, we aimed  at the officers.  They were easily recognizable in their unique uniforms .  Cannons went off with bangs and gun fire continued.  A sea of the  dead and wounded lay on the ground. All of a sudden, a figure came running through the darkness.  It was my  friend Henry from back home. He  was a year older than me and much more fit for the  job and also very good at it.  He was tall for his age ,  had short blonde  hair, and a sturdy build. Henry also was very  mature for his age. He was like a brother to me. He  had changed much since that day many months ago. Henry was covered in gunpowder and dirt.   He looked like a chimney sweep after a long day of work.  All of a sudden a BANG was heard in the distance.  He came running over to me.

Henry yelled “ hit the ground” and he pulled us down.

  We both fell to the ground as a cannon ball came flying over our heads and missed us by a couple feet. Once we heard the cannon ball hit  the ground with a strike like thunder we got up and found our muskets,   got to our feet and took aim once more.

 Henry said with panic in his voice " You are such a daydreamer William. You almost got killed , you  had better stay more focused from now on".  

We finally met the Redcoats. Henry started to battle a Redcoat with the end of his musket as gunpowder was running low. I met one and  took to battling the Redcoat. He stabbed as I ducked just in time. I was quite short and I managed to stab the Redcoat and he collapsed to the ground. Killing  had become natural to all of the boys in the militia. I went on through the overgrown grass as the cool wetness of the grass dampened my pants. More redcoats came; they seemed to be a never ending army. They were an army of about 2,400 British troops compared to our troops of about 1,500 Americans .  I took my musket and fired at more Redcoats; they had suffered far more casualties than the maliata had.  As I went to refill my musket and prepared to fire I realized that I was out of gunpowder.  When I looked up,  I felt a sharp pain through my leg and I collapsed  onto the ground. My face hit the ground and  I tasted a mouth full of dirt.  I looked up from the ground at my leg and realized I had been shot. Henry noticed,  he came running  and picked me up and dragged me away from the Redcoats. 

Henry bent down and said, “ You will be ok William” Then he ran away to continue the fighting. As I watched from my spot on the ground  sharp  pain shot through my leg. I layed there and started to cry. The pain began to take over my body. I looked at Henry firing what was left of our gunpowder and musket balls. I wished I could be more like  Henry. He was always so grown up and brave. I tried to move and help him, but I realized there was no way I could move. All of a sudden, I saw Henry collapse onto the ground. He never moved or tried to get up.  I knew that my best friend was dead. I started to cry harder. It was then I realized  that Henry was right to never give up and stay focused on the task at hand. A woman came running up to me. She picked me up  and said in a small voice,

" You will be ok, it's only your leg " It was easy for her to pick me up  as I was short for my age and had not eaten much since I left home to fight . She brought me to a tent that was being used as a close hospital and I was laid down with gentle care. The hospital smelt like  blood and sweat as the men in the hospital had not had a wash for a great time. The hospital smelt rancid.   A surgeon came, he was a  stout man with a beard he said with sympathy in his voice,

 " you could have died out there son " and he strategically pulled the musket ball from my leg and used bloody water to raise my wound. After a couple of weeks in the tent my leg became severely infected and I would later undergo a surgery to remove my leg. After the surgery, our General decided I was so young and should be sent home to recover. Many years after the war I still see the friend I lost watching over me along the way. I finally understand the deeper meaning to what Henry meant. I should never lose focus of what matters most.