United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Juvenile fiction
"Keep it up, lads! Don't waste any time, for they are making ready to
turn tail again!" I shouted, and then Archie leaped up on the platform
by my side, screaming as if suddenly bereft of his senses, while he
discharged his musket again and again.
The lines of red wavered, were broken, or moved back here and there,
until it was impossible to make out amid the smoke any definite action,
and once more I lost my head, knowing nothing save that I was struggling
with all my might to check those who would have over-run us.
And we did check them! For the second time the pride of the king's army
ran in utter rout down the hill, despite all their officers could do to
check them, and we, the rag-tag, had accomplished that which a few days
before Governor Gage had said was impossible.
Once more had we whipped them in fair fight, and once more we gave way
to rejoicing, no longer believing that the battle was won; but grown
strong in the knowledge that twice had they sent their best men against
us, and twice we had driven them back in ignoble defeat, even though
during the last assault General Howe himself led the way to give his men
courage.
One of our Minute Boys had been killed outright, and lay on his face
upon the ground within a few feet of where I stood. How long he had been
there no one could say; but we knew that he was alive when we were
rejoicing over the first repulse.
Singular as it may seem when so many among us had been killed and
wounded, no other of the Minute Boys had fallen, and while we stood
inside the redoubt in the first flush of this second victory, we clasped
each other by the hands as if congratulating ourselves that we were yet
in the land of the living after having, as it were, gone down to the
very brink of that dark river which separates this world from the next.
It is not well that I set down very much concerning our lads, for even
at this late day it makes my heart ache as I recall to mind their
appearance.
One could see hunger and thirst written on their powder-begrimed faces.
It seemed to me as I looked at Archie, that his eyes were sunken, and I
know full well his lips were drawn apart as are those of one who has
been suddenly killed.
Save for the excitement of the battle we would have been in most painful
distress; but the mind is so much stronger than the body that even when
we had time to think of our condition, little heed was given to anything
save the desire to do once more what we had twice done before, and make
an end by the final repulse of the lobster backs.
Yet even I, raw recruit as I was, understood with a sinking of the heart
which I cannot well explain, that we were far less able to cope with
those lines of red now than when they first came upon us.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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