Tale of a Patriot Part One

TALE OF A PATRIOT

PART ONE

Written by

GRANDPA CASEY

Smashwords Edition

This Story is fictional any depiction of a person or place is purely coincidental

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER ONE

AM I BRITISH OR AM I AN AMERICAN?  I kept questioning myself after I read the first paragraph of the newspaper.  The question keeps repeating itself as I continue to read the rest of the article.  I think this must be some kind of mistake, so I read it again. After reading it for the third time, I lean back in my seat to analyze what I read.

After a while, I mumble, How can this be? This can’t be right?  Last night we were at peace with England.

I never thought this would actually happen. Men like John Hancock, Samuel Adams, and others were clamoring for this day to come; but I never thought their vocal antics would succeed. It’s easy to get caught up in the frenzy of a good speech, but I believed that the people were smarter than this. Like most of the Colonists, I also wanted equal representation in England. I’m all for forcing England to accept us as equals, but not like this.  

Still in disbelief, I read the article again:

In Mid-April of 1775, British Soldiers marched into Lexington Massachusetts. They had orders to arrest Samuel Adams and John Hancock. The Minutemen, as some liked to call themselves, were armed and waiting for the Red Coats in a clearing called Lexington Green. The night before, riders rode from Boston to Concord warning everyone by shouting, THE BRITISH ARE COMING THE BRITISH ARE COMING. Once warned, church bells rang out, alerting the farmers of the upcoming danger.

That morning, while waiting for the British to arrive, their neighbors brought out food and drinks. Seeing the array, of food and drink, the Patriots attitude quickly turned from serious to jovial. Some passed the time away by playing cards, others enjoyed their favorite beverage, a few even napped. Reality set in when the British marched into town.

When the Colonists see how many British are approaching, one of them blurts out, We should have brought more men. It’s like going to a gun fight with a club.

With muskets loaded, the Minutemen form a line to prevent the British from going any further. Standing several feet apart, the Patriots taunt the British Soldiers. They were shouting things like, ‘Better to be dead than wear red’, ‘So what are you going to do now’, ‘I met Your Sister, and she looks meaner than you’. The rest of their taunts were too vulgar to mention.

Being professional soldiers, the British endured the taunts as they waited for orders. At first, the British Officer was perplexed, he never encountered a situation like this before and needed time to think. His first inclination was to shoot the one who mentioned his wife looks like the business end of a horse; but reframed from doing so. He only held back because he had orders not to fire unless fired upon.

He thinks. Great, how do I get out of this mess? I can’t fight back, but I can’t let the insults pass. My wife was hoping we could make this land our home; however, after this I don’t know. Maybe a show of force will work. I never should have let my Father talk me into joining the Army. Oh well, here goes nothing.

While controlling his horse, who is agitated by the shouting, he tells the Patriots, You men are interfering with the King’s troops; you must stand aside and let us through. If you do not, you will be arrested and taken to Boston, there you will be put on trial for inciting a riot and promptly hanged. 

Hearing that only angered the Patriots more and their leader responded with, Turn around and go back to Boston.  The only way you’ll pass is when we’re all dead.  The Patriots cheer as the leader continues; We don’t want you here.  Now go home. Then while making the motion of shooing a child away, the leader continues, Go on, be on your way. 

Having enough of the insults the Officer turned to his men and ordered, Men form two firing lines. Soon we’ll dispatch these Yankee swine. 

As the British soldiers form the firing lines, the British Officer thinks, I hope this works. If not, I’m not sure what to do next. When the Officer sees what happens next, he starts fuming as he thinks, of all the gall, these fools are taunting us; they’re also forming firing lines. Well, this should rattle their nerves.

The British Officer shouts, MAKE READY.

Instead of fleeing, the Patriots followed suit. Now, both sides are aiming their loaded muskets at one another. Each side stubbornly stood their ground; silently daring the other side to either shoot or leave. No one said anything or moved a muscle for several minutes. Sweat started beading on several foreheads. The sweat was caused by a combination of fear and the strain of holding their muskets motionless for so long.

Suddenly, someone fires their musket. Hearing the shot, instinctively, everyone else fires their weapons. When it was over, several American Patriots lay wounded or dead. The surviving Patriots, not expecting this, panicked and ran away.

The British, after loading their casualties on their supply wagons, continued their search for Samuel Adams and John Hancock. Unable to find them; they marched on to Concord to fulfill the rest of their mission.

Unable to rationalize the insanity of what I just read I mindlessly stare out the stagecoach’s window.  My Father looks confused; he is puzzled by the silence and blank stare on my face.  He expected me to be vocal and jolly.  He also expected me to continue with more questions about Plymouth.  Before reading the newspaper, I would not stop talking about the trip.   

Finally, worried about my continued silence, my dad asks me, What’s the matter Joe? Don’t be sad; I brought you with me to Plymouth to do some business and have some fun. Don’t fret, we’ll return. If we get the planting done in time we’ll bring your Brother and Mother to Plymouth’s Summer Festival. You’re not still disappointed about losing the knife-throwing contest, are you? He pats my shoulder and continues talking, Well, take heart, there’s always next time.

After giving my father the newspaper, I continue looking out the window.

When he’s done reading the story, my dad puts the paper on his lap and says, I’ll be the son of a neutered hog. They finally did it. Those fools finally started a war.

One of the other passengers, looks at my dad and asks, Sir, is it safe to assume that you didn’t know about this? After my dad shakes his head no, the passenger mumbles, It’s all that everyone is talking about.

My dad says, My son and I, overslept and barely made it to the stagecoach in time. We even ate on the run.

Another passenger says, I wouldn’t believe everything you read in the newspaper; you know how they love to exaggerate things.       

Trying to forget about the article, I close my eyes and recall the events of the past few days:

Every year, the local farmers would ban together and herd, the animals they want to sell, to Plymouth’s Annual Auction. But not this year. So, my dad, needing help transporting our two Pinto yearlings and two mares, took me along.

While watching the auctioneer, in action, I was amazed at how skillfully he managed to get the bidders to increase their offers. We actually sold the horses for more than my dad expected to get.

Since the coach to Lexington didn’t leave until the next day, we spent the night in town. Dad wanted to get home and start planting. Now, instead of borrowing, he can pay cash for the two new plows, that are waiting for us in Lexington. His plan is, after plowing and planting our fields, to hire himself out, along with me and my younger Brother Luke, to plow the fields of other farmers.

Dad promised to give me and Luke a share of the profits. I was looking forward to having some spending money in my pocket. Nothing impresses the girls more than having a little jingle in your pocket to spend on them.   

After selling the horses, my dad showed me the sights. I saw where the Pilgrims landed, the old fort, and other landmarks. The loading docks impressed me the most. I never saw so many ships before; actually, that was the first time I saw an ocean sailing vessel. We went to bed late and slept the morning away.

Before leaving, on the afternoon coach, I bought a newspaper. I wanted to catch up on the latest news. I thought the headline, ‘THE SHOT HEARD AROUND THE WORLD’, was about another tax that England imposed on the American Colonies. I never expected this. A war began while I was away. My family’s farm is only a few miles outside Lexington. Since there are no British Soldiers stationed in Lexington, I felt like we had been invaded. I know we are British Subjects, but I couldn’t help feeling that way.       

With Plymouth behind us, while we’re making our way thru the countryside, I wonder if any of my relatives were part of the standoff. Like most Colonists, I am a second-generation American. Many of us still have Grandparents, Mothers, Fathers, Brothers, and Sisters in England. Like my father