Dearest Soldier

By Madeline ODell

August
Dear Mother,
I regret to inform you that Im dead...probably. By the time you
read this, Im a buried corpse rotting in the ground. On that
pleasant note, how are you? I would say I am fine, but Im not. I
love you very much. Please tell Little Willy and Maria the same. I
hope they grow up to be amazing people, and strong warriors.
Love,
August

My messy scrawl was crumpled up by my cold, weak hands. Youre not

going to die. Youre strong. Ah, who was I kidding. I knew my death was near.
Death. The word echoed in my mind. It stung, the thought of escaping existence.
I guess I havent properly introduced myself. Im August Smith, a soldier in
the Revolutionary War. I know by the time youre reading this, its probably some
crazy future, but I hope people dont judge as harshly as they do in the 1700s.
They judge by color, size, gender, and especially by occupation and wealth.
Lets start from the beginning. I was born in a small barn in August (hey,
thats my name). The rain beat against the barn roof, wearing out the red paint. My
parents were Anne and Julius Smith, both from a long line of poor, poor farmers.
Gee, thats an unbeatable streak of luck.
When I was about two years of age, I began to do chores in the barn. I sorted
through hay, raked the leaves, and tended to the hogs. When I had free time, I
taught myself to read. I would bury myself in a small nook in the hay loft, and
indulge myself in adventure with many different characters.
When I was fourteen, my younger sister Maria was born. She was another
mouth to feed. I began to find work around the neighborhood, odd jobs to help our
family have dinner. Some nights, I gave up my dinner to Maria, who was growing
like a weed. Some nights, nobody had dinner or breakfast or lunch. So went the
next day, and the next. We called those days the Drought.
They went on for weeks at a time, little to no food on the table.
Father became ill in the Fall, so we couldnt dry our meats. That left more
hunger. We didnt eat, so we didnt have leftovers for the pigs. It was a chain of
horrid events, tunneling into mass chaos. And so it went.
By Spring, we had Willy, a little boy. He was a trouble maker. He was
hungry, too. I didnt want him to grow up hungry, but there was nothing I could do.
I turned fifteen, then sixteen, still skinny and weak.
Everyday I would run to the woods after I finished work at the farm, and
climb up the tallest tree I could find. I could feel the heat of the sun on my back,
and I knew I was invisible, but I felt so important. Then I jumped. A pile of rags
and leaves and twigs broke my fall.
Then I came home for dinner, every day the same...except for this day. I felt
the cold, damp leaves surround me. I laughed, creases forming around my almond
brown eyes, the sun bleaching my light brown hair to a sort of dirty blonde. I felt
old. Not physically older, I just felt that I had experienced so much of life by the

age of sixteen. But sixteen years was not a full life. I rubbed my chin. A soft
stubble was forming. Scratch that. I was looking older.
Standing up, I was about 611. A tree in the making, Maria and Willy would
chant. Gee, thanks. As much as I denied it, I loved Maria and Willy. They were my
siblings and I loved them. Nothing would change that. I trudged home, a goofy
grin plastered on my face. I wouldve looked like a fun loving, goofy tree with my
overalls and messed up hair, but the fact that I was holding a sharpened axe kind of
ruined it.
I threw the axe into the hay loft for next time I cut firewood, and charged
into the house.
Im home, I called upstairs.
Boots, my mother replied. I looked down at my feet. Muddy footprints
were tracked all through the house.
Um, yeah. Everythings clean. On an unrelated note, do you have a spare
rag? I called out sheepishly. Mother appeared in the foyer at the top of the steps.
Yes, I see. Perfectly clean. She rolled her eyes and leaned in for a hug.
Hey, can you watch Willy and Maria? she asked, though I knew it was more of a
demand.
Okay. Where is Father? I asked, worry creeping into my voice.
Ill in bed, Mother answered warily. She was getting older as well. Her
beige dress was tattered and torn, and her burgundy apron was faded and patched
up with multicolored squares. Her dark brown hair was put up in a messy bun and
her face was becoming wrinkled and leathery, lacking youth.
But one look into her brown eyes and everything brightened. People said I
had her eyes, but I didnt have the eyes that could enchant just about anyone to do
just about anything.
May I visit him? I inquired, shaking a bit. Father had been sick for a while
now. We had tried all the remedies we could afford and all that we could make with
no luck. Tears welled up in my eyes. I bit my lip. If I cried, Mother would cry, and
if Mother cried, Willie and Maria would be frazzled and then cry. Any chance to
dodge that trainwreck was one I was willing to take.
Not right now. Hes resting, Mother replied quickly, her eyes shifting.
Please go watch the kids. That would really help. Mother sighed and headed
upstairs.

Honey? she called to Father. I swallowed hard. I walked into the main
room.
Huh, I thought theyd be in here. Well, I guess not- I was broken off by
two little children jumping on my back and giggling.
Hello, you two. How was your day? I questioned calmly as they wriggled
their way up to my shoulders. As tall as I was, they could climb up me like little
monkeys.
Good, they replied in unison, still working their way up. Willie rested on
my head to breathe.
I had fun. Maria did, too. Willie said.
Hey, Willie, I was going to tell him! Maria cried.
But I did first, Willie smirked. Maria sniffled.
B-but...I...I, she stuttered.
Willie, I heard about your day, now Maria, how about yours? I asked,
looking into Marias icy blue eyes, showing interest. Maria put her hands on her
hips and faced Willie. She smiled happily.
Willie and Maria looked incredibly similar. Both with light blonde hair,
stone cold eyes, and a ridged nose. Maria proceeded to tell me about her day, but
my mind drifted off. I needed to see Father.
Um, can I stop you for one second? I asked.
Yes, shes boring, Willie agreed.
Im not boring! Maria screamed.
Yes, you are! Willie pushed.
No! Im! Not! Maria protested. I snuck out while I could. I crept up the
stairs, careful for creaky steps.
Father, I whispered into the dark, empty hallway. I snaked over to his
door. It was halfway closed. I took a peek in. Mother sat at the end of his bed, and
Father...Father. He was pale and sickly. He was wheezing and tears streamed out of
him with no signs of emotions. He didnt look alive. He didnt look like my father.
He couldnt be. My father wouldnt die. He couldnt die. He was invincible. He
was my father.
I choked back tears, and listened closely to Mothers soft, soothing voice.
Honey, its okay. She sounded so confident and sure, I could almost
believe her. Almost. Father attempted to sit up, but cringed. That couldnt have

been pleasant. He slowly positioned himself comfortably, and gazed into Mothers
eyes.
She smiled, creating creases near her eyes. She was tired and frail. She was
my mother, so she would keep on going. She would always keep going. As for my
father, I wasnt so sure. He slowly placed his hands in Mothers. His breath shook
like he was in a snowstorm.
I love you, he said. A tear streamed down Mothers cheek as the corners of
her mouth curled upwards.
I love you, too. I dont want to lose you. I dont want to lose a man like
you. Mothers voice cracked. I dont blame her. My throat was dry and my eyes
stung.
I dont want to lose a woman as wonderful as you. I dont want to lose
Willy or Maria. I dont want to lose August. This is going to be hard for him.
Please tell him that I love him very much. I love you, Father stated calmly, as if
my world werent falling apart.
I love you, Mother said, and leaned into him. She rested her head against
his chest, and sighed.
I love you. She repeated the word love so many times, I lost count. She
just didnt want to let him go. I didnt want to let him go, either. I wanted to run in
there and shake some sense into both of them. We can call a doctor! We can trade
for money! We can make this work! But we couldnt. I shook my head helplessly
and crumpled up into a ball.
I sobbed, in search of the hope wed been lacking for years. I tucked my
head to my knees and hugged my tree legs. It had seemed that Id been in the
hallway for hours. I hastily unfolded myself as I heard the creaking of floorboards.
Mother must have gotten up from the bed. I heard soft crying from Mother and
pounding on wood. I heard shuffling feet, as if someone was pacing. Overall, I
could feel in the air her sadness and anger and confusion. I didnt want Mother to
be that way.
I pushed open the door and ran up to my father. Mother gasped at my
sudden presence, and pulled my shoulder in an attempt to restrain me. Nothing
could restrain me. I probably had a look of determination in my eye, or maybe pure
anger. I made my way to Father. I kneeled and saw his closed eyes. I pressed my
now-clammy hand against his chest. It felt hollow with the sound of emptiness. No

heart beat to set a rhythm. No breath allowing my hand to rise and fall without
trying. I placed my other hand on his right cheek.
Father? I asked his hollow body, expecting him to shout Boo! like he
did when I was little. Then wed laugh and laugh. Maybe hed fallen asleep, and
Id jump on him like I would long ago. Maybe...he was gone.
The cold truth hit me hard. He was dead. Tears raced down my cheeks and to
the ground. How could my hero fall so quickly? I just didnt want to lose him. The
feeling of grief washed over me. That was when I realized that I was not alone.
Mother, I cried, and flung myself into her arms. She fell to the ground
from the force of my flying weight and lost her balance.
Baby, she moaned, sobbing miserably. Why are you up here? she asked,
trying to shake me off of her.
I needed to see Father! I confessed defensively.
You didnt need to see Father, you couldve watched the children. That was
your job. It would be easier that way. Mother was in a fit, considering she just lost
her husband and her son had disobeyed her clear orders. My persistence probably
wasnt helping matters.
It wouldnt have been. You didnt let me say goodbye. You didnt let me
say goodbye! How could you just let him die like that? You just let him die! I
screamed. All these harsh emotions flowed out of me. I wasnt mad at her, she
wasnt responsible for my fathers death. I just needed someone to take it all out
on. She was the nearest someone.
You let him die, I said quietly, staring at my toes, considering it all. I could
tell I hit a soft spot.
Young man, I did not let your father die. She took a deep breath and
counted to ten.
Son, go check on the children. She was enraged. She hadnt dismissed me
since I brought home a stray, muddy dog. She was flushed. She sagged against the
wall like a rag doll. She closed her eyes and continued counting. I slumped my
shoulders and stomped into the living room. Willie and Maria had stopped
squabbling, yet Maria was sitting on Willies head, pinning him to the floor.
Hello, Maria said brightly.
Greetings, Willie frowned, his chin forced into the wooden floor. That was
obviously uncomfortable.
Maria, get off Willie right now. I felt steam seeping out of my ears.

No, Maria cried. Its unfair! He-he...What did he do again? My lips

created a sharp, thin line.
I said to get off. Get. Off, I repeated. Maria had a disgusted look on her
face, but she slowly got off of Willies head.
Are you happy? she asked.
With that attitude, no, I am not! You have been a very bad girl! I scolded
scornfully. Maria shrank into a corner. Willie opened his mouth to boast, yet I
picked him up and spanked him.
What you did to Maria was very foolish...well, whatever you did to Maria.
Fire blazed in my eyes.
But Auggie- Willie began.
Ive told you never to call me that, I said evenly, yet I still had an angry
manner about me.
I thought you loved it when I called you that, tree, Willie persisted. I
closed my eyes and counted. Anything could blow my top, at the moment.
Go to your rooms, I concluded.
But-! they shrieked in unison.
Go! I ordered. They scattered. I fell back into Fathers chair and rubbed
my brow. Mother appeared in the foyer.
You look so much like him, she smiled, shaking her head as if recalling
memories.
I know this is hard for you. Is there anything I can do? she offered.
Honestly, I shouldve been touched. My mother was incredibly shaken up. Her soul
mate had just passed. And she was concerned about me. It was the kindest thing
anyone had ever done for me. I wanted to hug her and cry in her arms. But would
my father still think I was a strong warrior? No, probably not.
Mother, you have done enough, I snapped. She stepped back in shock, but
then regained her composure.
Youre in pain. I understand, Mother calmly stated, beginning to walk
away. But then I stopped her.
Mother, that man was a figure in my life. I think you should just let it go
and forget, I stated swiftly. Something died inside me. Hope, thats what it was. I
dishonored my father, and blew off my mother. I was a horrible person. I had to do
something.
That night at dinner, Mother told the twins about Fathers passing.

Itll be hard to move on, but well find a way. I shoved a hot roll in my
mouth before I could say anything else stupid. The rest of the night went smoothly,
though Mother, Willie, and Maria ignored me. They had every right to. I was a jerk
with a big mouth. But it didnt feel like my voice. It was as if all the anger balled
up in my soul escaped through a few sentences. After dinner, Mother hurried to her
room. I followed her, ears pressed against the wall as my hands clutched the foyer.
I peeked in. She closed her eyes, knelt down, and began to pray.
I dont know what I should do. Please guide me. I have to take care of my
children, provide food for them, and all by myself. We have no
money left, and the owner of our farm is dead. My husband is dead. We need more
land and more money. August is upset and angry. Willie and Maria are fighting all
of the time. The British are sending soldiers into homes, abiding the Quartering
Act. Its supposed to protect us in case of an attack, put it will just provide another
mouth to feed. They will be sending the soldiers soon. Please dont let that happen
to us. Please help me. My whole family will be on the streets if I dont solve this
problem. I need your guidance. Mother quietly slipped into bed, a single tear
streaming down her cheek. I swallowed hard. I leaned against the wall, feeling the
cold wood through my clothes. I knew what I had to do.
Mother? I whispered to the slightly closed door. I didnt get a response.
Mother? I called a little louder. My heart began to race. Losing both parents in
one day would be...unbearable. Dont jump to conclusions, I chided.
I slowed down and listened. I heard heavy breathing. I sighed, relief
coursing through me.
Mother, I stated. It felt good to say. At least I had Mother. She opened her
eyes. Her beautiful, brown eyes bored into my soul, prying the truth out of me. I
waited, just gazing at her and processing the mind blowing events of the day.
Im sorry, she said, her voice soft and pure. I looked at her, befuddled.
Why should you be sorry? I was the one who was so insensitive. Im sorry,
Mother. It was a stupid mistake and it will never happen again, I admitted. I took
a deep breath, though Mother didnt look fazed.
I know I didnt do anything, but Im sorry you have to deal with this. No
one should have to deal with loss at such a young age. Mother held my hands in
hers, and smiled. Part of me wanted to protest. I was sixteen! I could deal with
loss! But then the truth of the moment rushed back. Of course. Mother knew about
pain. She had just lost her husband, as I had just lost my father.

And its hard to handle. I know you want to take it out on someone and
scream and shout and yell. Thats okay. You just need to control it. I love you,
sweetie. Im sorry, Mother said.
My eyes were at the floor. I just couldnt look at Mother straight. We had a
long silence betwixt us.
He said he loved you, Mother said, her voice shaky and unsure.
I know, I nodded, squeezing her hand tightly. She was tired and upset. I
couldnt lay the news on her...yet. I needed to at some point, though.
Goodnight, I whispered to her as if she were a child.
Goodnight, she replied, drifting off. I smiled, and left the room that way.
No one understood the worry that lay under that smile. Mother needed to know my
solution. It could be the only way to save us. It was becoming a life-or-death
situation. We saw that today. The words echoed in my mind as I went to sleep. Life
or death, life or death, life or death.

Aaron
You have to! Father shouted in my direction. Tears formed in my eyes.
I dont have to do anything! I yelled.

I am your father! You will do as I say, he ordered. I flung myself into a

softly faded floral chair. It sunk with my weight.
Father, you dont understand, I muttered.
I do believe I understand, Father stated scornfully. I sighed.
Father, I dont want to. War? I dont want to kill people as you have. As
soon as the words escaped my mouth, I knew I would get a proper scolding. Father
was very strict in regards to respect for the patriarch.
I did not just kill people, I-
Fought for what was right, we recited, though he had much more emotion
and passion in his voice.
Listen, son, Father relaxed his tone a bit and looked at me straight on.
I was once as confused and afraid as you.
Im not confused and afraid- I began.
Yes, you are. You poor child. Yes, you are. I rolled my eyes. This could
not be happening. There are many different types of fathers. Caring, loving, maybe
even protective...but that was not my father. He pushed me to be my best, he
pushed me to be his view of perfection; he pushed me to be him. But he was not
perfect. He may be a respected colonel, but he was controlling. I guess thats a
good quality to find in a leader, but not a father.
I looked into my fathers eyes. There must be some love in him. He loved
my mother, and that was hard. Okay, okay. My mother is not very loving. She stays
in her room until dinner, and goes back immediately without saying a word.
Whenever she comes down, she always tells me what a fool and coward I am, and
how I am a disgrace to our family with such sincerity that it is hard not to believe
her.
I remember, once when I was barely eight years old, I walked in on an
argument that Mother and Father were brewing.
Hes a wonderful son. Hes going to join the British Military just as I did.
Maybe he could be a drummer, maybe a quartermaster. But definitely not a fool. It
took a few moments to realize, but my father was defending me from an insult that
Mother had thrown my way.
I wanted to run to him and cry, as I always had done when Mother hurt me,
physically or emotionally. But I knew it was the wrong time. Mother would
probably hit me if she noticed I was listening.

Hes stupid, John. I dont want him. Hes a disgrace. Why do you keep him
around? Mother spat distastefully, as if she were speaking of garbage or rats. Her
words stung like salt in a wound.
Mother snorted and trudged upstairs, muttering something about stupidity.
Father sighed.
Aaron? he called, not looking up. He knew I listened.
Father, I cried, and flew into his arms.
Father, I whispered.
Its okay. Its okay. He stroked my back. And that was that. I could always
depend on him for support. I blinked, and my sitting room appeared. I shook
myself out of the memory.
Son, look around. Were rich! Filthy rich! he declared, his green eyes
gleaming with pride. I looked at my surroundings. Truth be told, Id always lived a
wonderful life. I never found myself facing conflicts (beside my mother), nor
financial issues. Life was a paradise. I lived in a large house with my protective
father and my recluse mother. Okay, so pretty much paradise, if you dont include
the choppy waves surrounding the island.
Ever since I could remember, my house has always been clean. The
burgundy paint always had a fresh coat every other year, if a speck of dust was on
the banister it would be gone immediately. And if any blood was dripped on the
floor from mothers beatings, it would be mopped up instantly.
We had company around the holidays, mostly family, to join us in a
marvelous feast in the dining hall. Then, my fathers brothers would crowd into the
sitting room to speak of the news and rumors that had spread like a fast-growing
weed, a raging wildfire.
The British are taking everything from us! I can barely support my family!
Uncle Frederick would cry.
Id have to agree. They own our land, and now theyre taxing us!?! How
cruel! another would say.
No, no. Youve got it all wrong! They do own this land. one would argue.
No! They all screamed over each other, as if that made them heard. I
ducked into my bedroom, contemplating whether I should go back down and
bother to listen to what they were rambling on about.
Boys, boys. Hush, now. The British have their rights. They fought
alongside us in the war against the French and Indian folks. They helped us. If they

are in debt, we should help them, my father would reason. A few others shouted in
protest, yet they shut up soon enough.
I suppose it all depended on the person. Some of Fathers brothers were poor
as a pig, while others were rich as the nog wed sip on Christmas morn. We were
rich.
My father took everything for granted. I grew up in that environment, so I
guess I forgot that I could have an opinion. My father knew that tension was
brewing between those who were loyal to the king and those who were drifting.
Father, look. I know were rich. That means that we can avoid trouble,
right? I didnt wait for an answer.
Youre pushing me into all of that trouble. I want to be safe and sound, here
with you and Mo- I paused. Here with you. Father bit his lip.
This could be a way for you to, you know, get out of the house. And, they
are bringing a group of soldiers to houses in the colonies. You could join the group,
and meet new people. I bet they have very kind adults in those houses. Very kind
fathers. And mothers, I silently hoped.
Father, Ill think about it. It took so much gut to say that, to the point
where I wasnt sure I could even leave the house. But it would be good for me.
Maybe Father was right...I made my decision.

August
Early in the morning, we all sat around the table. The only food we had for
breakfast were overly ripe berries I had found in a briar patch near the barn.
Willie and Maria picked at the wood that was chipping off of the table.
Willie, Maria, I chided. You dont want splinters, now do you? They
looked at me curiously, then nodded. I guess they were glad that the old me was
back. I was, too.
Mother came downstairs a few minutes later in a new dress that I had never
seen before.
Mother, your dress looks lovely, I commented, smiling.

I sewed it last night out of a few dresses that were too small, she replied,
grinning. I suppose she just needed something to take her mind off of Father. But
the dress truly did look lovely. It had a puffy, white skirt that led up to a light green
top. She had a lace shawl draped over her shoulders to top it off. With her hair
flying free, it went down to her waist. She looked like the epitome of spring and
happiness.
As she passed my seat, she whispered in my ear so that Willie and Maria
could not hear.
I buried your father last night. I made this dress for the occasion. The shawl
is from our wedding. After breakfast you can pay your respects, she explained
swiftly as she twirled around and into her seat. She literally looked like a fairy.
We slowly ate our berries, sure to savor every morsel. Willie and Maria
began to fight about who could eat slower, and they began to resemble dolls being
moved one frame at a time.
You two, go to the sitting room, Mother ordered when they began to argue
that they were the one who ate the slowest. Those kids cracked me up. They
scampered off to the sitting room, and it was just Mother and I.
Mother? I asked, my hands a bit clammy.
Yes? she answered, looking at me all wide-eyed and happy.
I have a solution, I said solemnly.
To what? she inquired cheerfully. And then it hit me. She was trying so
hard to be warm and bubbly, so she could forget about the pain. She didnt want us
to know that she was suffering. She didnt want to know that she was suffering.
Mother, I found a solution to our financial problems. Id known about it for
about a week now, but since Father died, I believe its necessary if this family is to
survive. Its going to be a little hard on you for a while, but I just know that this is
the only way, I spilled. Mothers face darkened as her lips created a thin line.
What are you talking about, August? She tried to keep her voice upbeat,
but her happy mood had clearly faded.
Mother, I believe it is necessary that I go to war. I took a deep breath.
Mothers face turned from confused, to sad, to angry, to confused again.
War? she asked, clearly fumed. You could die! I shook my head. Of
course I could die. Its war. But its better for me to die instead of everyone I love.
Mother, I wont die. I promise, I lied. She seemed to calm at my false
words.

Mother, all volunteers get money and land. We could keep our farm
running. We could save Willie and Maria. We could save you. I held her hands,
trying not to realize what I was getting myself into.
It would save you, too, right? she questioned. I swallowed.
Of course, I lied again. I would most likely die. And the thought terrified
me. I had so much that I wanted to do. I wanted to become a rich author and live in
a large house with plenty of food. I wanted to have children who grew up in a
society where war was diminished and we all were peaceful.
Look, the Continental Army is looking for recruits, I said, nodding, hoping
she understood. I felt like I was talking to someone Willie or Marias age.
I know, Mother said. I dont want you to go. Ive lost enough in the past
few days. But if it saves you and the children, Im all for it.
Tears welled in her eyes. I really didnt want to leave the warmth of this
house.

I love you. Goodbye. I smiled. This could be the last time I ever saw
Mother. Dont think like that, August.
I should probably get some of my stuff...you, know. Packed, I said
awkwardly, like Okay, so this is just happening now? Mother smiled at me. I knew
that she didnt support my decision. Frankly, it was an iffy plan, but she was letting
me grow up. I for sure didnt know what would happen to me out there. It was like
I had just been given a death sentence, though. That was something to think about
as I packed up.
I found a small, brown leather satchel and a spare shirt, pants, and boots. I
didnt have much space left for keepsakes, but I didnt want to forget home. I ran
off to Father and Mothers sleeping quarters. I wasnt technically allowed in there,
but I felt that desperate times called for desperate measures.
I headed straight for the wooden dresser. I knew what I needed. I felt in the
drawer to find my hand resting on a chest about the size of my fist. I felt for the
sides of it, and lifted it out of the drawer.
It was a wooden chest, colorfully painted with ornate patterns that glided as
swiftly as the wind. All the colors contrasted from the bland, nondescript sleeping
quarters Mother and Father once shared. I carefully lifted up the lid to reveal my

prize. A golden locket was sitting at the bottom of the box. There were hounds
carved into one side, and a large tree in the other.
I lifted the chain up so that the pendant dangled aimlessly. I clutched the
pendant in my right palm, and flipped open the locket. A watch appeared, ready to
tell the time whenever the owner wound it up correctly.
Father never had the time right on that thing. Always an hour early, or two
hours late. I smiled at the thought of Father. He had been an old soul, always
bringing light when he stepped into a room.
I put the locket back in the chest and buried it under all of my clothes. I
slung the satchel over my broad shoulders, and hurried downstairs.
Willie? Maria? I called.
Ha, he said my name first! a faint voice boasted. So they were still in the
sitting room. They could pick a fight from just about anything. When I appeared in
the foyer, theyd moved to whose eyes were more blue. I shook my head.
These kids were a handful.
Hey, I need to tell you something, I said, trying to keep my voice upbeat.
By you you meant me, correct? Maria replied with a faux sweetness.
No, both of you, I replied sternly. Maria frowned, but Willie had a smug
look on his face, as if hed just tarred and feathered a tax collector.
I know you guys are still pretty young, but youre going to understand this
more when youre older, I explained.
I am the oldest. Ill probably understand it better. Willie scowled. I guess
that was a battle he could never win. Maybe thats what I was getting myself into.
Well, both of you know that were short on money. Very short, actually.
And I know what to do about that! I said, excitement creeping into my voice.
Maybe this would work. Maria and Willie both looked at me wide-eyed. For once,
they had stopped fighting.
I can have a doll?
I can get a toy train?
I can get a pretty gown?
I can get a carving knife?
Yes, yes...wait, no. Willie, why do you want a carving knife? I questioned.
I dunno, Willie shrugged.
And, while all of those things are pretty cool, Im talking bigger. More food
to eat. Maybe you two can get books and learn how to read. I started to become

nostalgic for the days I would bury my nose in a book and stay in the hayloft all
day. I know how you guys can get better clothes, too. Maybe a pretty gown.
Maybe a carving knife. Who knows? I said, starting to chuckle, but then
immediately stopped. Was I indulging myself in laughter to escape the fact that I
was going to war? I shrugged it off.
Are you excited? I asked. Maria and Willie jumped up and clapped their
hands.
Yay! they cried in unison, and it was so sincere and genuine. This was the
right thing to do.
Theres only one bad thing, I said quietly, crouching down to meet their
eyes (though that was a bit tricky).
Im going to need to leave for a little while.
Willie furrowed his brow. Forever? he asked.
No, not forever, I laughed, though the thought that it could be nagged at
me.
How long? Maria asked, her lower lip quivering.
A little while,I nodded my head.
How long is a little while? Willie questioned, starting to realize what was
going on.
Where will you be? Maria asked nervously, catching on as well. For
young kids, they were really intelligent.
I will be fighting, I answered.
Is this because we always fight? We can stop, we swear, Willie pleaded,
leaning in to hug Maria. She didnt pull away, but embraced it. She wrapped her
arms around him.
No, no. I took a deep breath. If I fight, and go to war, I earn money and
land. That goes to you guys! I smiled, hopelessly trying to brighten up the
conversation.
War?!? Maria cried.
You could die! Willie exclaimed. They ran up to me and wrapped their
arms around my neck.
Dont leave! Please! PLEASE! Dont leave us, dont leave us! they
screamed, digging their nails into my flesh.
Please! Stop! I cried helplessly, as they worked their way up, damaging
every bone in my body.

Stop! DONT LEAVE US! They screamed bloody murder. I sighed. I

plucked them off of my head and sat them in front of me (trust me, Im not that
strong, theyre just light. They dont eat much. But I can change that).
Listen, I wont be gone for more than a week, I fibbed. I wasnt sure if I
would ever be back, let alone in a week.
I love you two more than you could ever imagine. Never forget that. I
placed my cap on Willies head. He gave me a toothy grin and beamed. I felt
around my neck. Once a loose cord was in my grasp I pulled it over my head, and
it came off easily.
I made the necklace long ago, using some rope and tying it. Since then, I
never took it off. For you, I said, placing it around Marias neck. She began to
weep softly.
Its okay, I whispered, kissing each of them on the forehead. Its okay, I
repeated. Here, lets go to the kitchen. I gestured them to follow. They wiped
their wet, puffy eyes with the backs of their hands, and reluctantly followed.
Hey guys, Mother said carefully. You okay?
Willie and Maria swallowed, then nodded.
W-will he b-be...will he be okay? Maria questioned Mother, her voice
shaking. Mother nodded, yet had no verbal response. Should that scare me?
I love you all so very much, I smiled. My teeth were starting to chatter,
even though it was late spring.
Goodbye.
Dont say that! Mother snapped.
Say what? I asked defensively.
Goodbye. This isnt goodbye, this is just, see you later.
I like that, I said, and turned toward the door. I love you guys. Then I
slipped out the door, and into the world. The dangerous world. Seeking freedom.
Freedom comes with a cost, though. And thats how I ended up dying on the
ground, having written a letter that would never be sent. But thats not the end.

Aaron
And so that was that. I was a soldier. Through weeks of treacherous
training, I became strong. I would walk into town, and people would look at
me...probably not because of my strength, though. I was a Red Coat. A lobsterback as some would say, though that term is quite offensive. Everywhere I
walked, whispers would follow. Maybe that was just because I was new in the
coloniesor maybe its because they hated me. But it wasnt like I was taxing
them. I was just fighting for my country. Every since I had moved into the Abbots
home, Id been a misfit, an outcast. There were three children in that family, which
was three more than I was used to. Theyd tease me, and make fun of me. Despite
their young age, the comments hurt. I was trying to protect them. If I needed food
and water to survive and protect them, then yes, Id live to live.
The parents were very kind, though. I think they might be afraid of me, and I
wasnt exactly a force to be reckoned with. With scrawny arms and a white
powdered ponytail, I was more of a snowman than a soldier. The parents, Lily and
Thomas, shared with me their food, water, and living quarters. I liked Lily the best.
She would talk to her husband at night, and though I could only slightly hear them
through the thick walls of the attic, they never mentioned my name. I could never
repay them for their kindness.
Not everyone was that way. Out on the streets, the British were not as
respected as I had hoped. People threw stones at soldiers (yes, it did leave a bruise,
thank you very much), tarred and feathered tax collectors who were just doing their
jobs, and most importantly, they would walk up to you and insult you, simple as
that.
Once, an uncivilized gentleman walked up to me and spat on my newly
shined boots. Sure, I was upset that I had saliva on my new shoes, but the stupidity

of the whole gesture was ridiculous. I could feel the tension. It was just about as
thick as the spit I wiped off of my boots.
So I was expecting that Id end up where I am now. At war. Fighting against
the colonists instead of helping them. I felt pretty stupid fighting against those I
once tried to protect. So here I was, face to face with something, someone new.

August
War. There is no word to describe it besides horrifying. Men willing to kill
each other. I just couldnt do it. No matter how hard I wanted to be free of taxes,
that wasnt what I was fighting for. The only thing that kept me going was the fact
that the payment should be mailed to the house any day now. Any day. But day
after day, I kept fighting, being swept up by a tide of blood and trying to continue
without my head spinning.
Stand straight! General Prescott demanded. I tried to steady myself, but
my back ached. Last night, we heard that the British were planning to claim
Charlestown. We were told to head for Breeds Hill, where we could have an
advantage of seeing the British before they see us. Once there, we were
commanded to dig into the hill and prepare it for battle. Once the hill was fortified,
we stood, and waited.
Still waiting. It was nearly midnight, and my knees were growing weak. I
could barely see straight, and felt woozy. We hadnt even started to fight yet and I
felt near death! The night was getting colder, even though it was now June. The
night passed by slow as molasses (which we were being taxed on, by the way).
Before we knew it, the darkness seized. I stretched, careful not to slam my arm into
my neighbor's head.
The British! someone exclaimed.
I turned my head to the direction of the enemy. From what I understand, the
British have many more soldiers than we do. This was looking like a hopeless
battle. We steadied our muskets in firing position, though I let my right hand droop
so there was no chance I would hit the trigger. Thats what I was going for.
Before we knew it, the British were upon us. An evil grin spread from ear to
ear when I saw the befuddled looks on their faces as they saw the hill. With towers
of protection, it seemed we were good to go. As I had my fun watching the British

confusion, someone fired. From which side it was not clear, but I gulped. Here we
go again.
I charged into the sea of soldiers, yelling in rage. This wasnt for the angry
colonists that shoved tea down peoples throats. This was
for my family. As I was engulfed in mass chaos, I jabbed the end of my musket
into peoples guts. Sure, not the most effective way to get them down, but it
worked, and no people were immediately killed in the process.
Kill! Kill! Dont take no for an answer! someone shouted. With the order
in their voice, I knew it must be a colonel or a general. I swallowed hard. This was
war. War. Freedom comes with a cost.
I bellowed in rage. I tore through the people in my way pushing them to the
side. I wasnt going to kill anyone, but I could at least scare them. I tugged at the
collars of those who challenged me. I knocked them down with a kick of the boot.
I snarled at those who rubbed shoulders. It was almost fun seeing them be so
hesitant about killing me.
Some shoved their bayonets in my face but I ducked and swung to the side.
One fired a shot but I dodged it, yet it came close...too close. Then...BANG!
Someone was shot. A man fell to the ground, laying limp. I ran to him and checked
his pulse. It was slowing, but there was still time left to save him. I reached for my
canteen and poured the cold water down his throat. I tried to help him swallow by
bobbing his chin, but it was no use.
A single tear streamed down my cheek. I didnt know this guy, I just had an
almost-dead man lying at my feet. I knew how hard it was to lose someone. He
wheezed. Alive, I mumbled, trying to come up with a solution. Blood was
seeping out of his chest from where hed been shot. I rummaged through my
satchel, searching for some kind of cloth. I took my extra shirt out of the satchel
and tore off the sleeve. Considering the length of my freakishly long arm, it should
be enough, I thought.
Well, that didnt exactly boost my self esteem, but I had work to do. I
wrapped the cloth tightly around his chest and tied it with a square knot. I poured
some cold water on the wound. I didnt have ice, but the cold water would have to
suffice. I continued tending to him, checking his breath, tightening the bandage. I
looked down and placed my hand on his forehead. A fever, too?This is going from
bad to worse, I thought miserably. I looked up to see if there were any plants I

could use to make some sort of a remedy, but I found myself face to face with a
musket. Prepare to die.

Aaron
So when I hear we are marching to Breeds Hill to claim Charlestown, I am
not surprised. The British still need their debts to be paid, so more land to tax
equals more money. But I am surprised that Breeds Hill has been fortified with a
tower and ammunition.
There were a surprisingly large number of soldiers lined up, ready to fire
their muskets. I rolled my eyes. Another fight. My father was wrong. He was
definitely wrong.
We marched up, and someone fired. It all happened so fast, it was a blur. I
fired my musket at a few Patriots. I could do that, but watching as they limply fell
was torture. I walked on and surprised a few as they tried to shoot more British
soldiers.
Death. It was horrible to kill, but this was war. What were we supposed to
do? I fired whenever I had the opportunity, and that was that. Thats what our
commander told us to do, so thats what I did. Im following the rules. What is
wrong with that?
I came across many men sneering as they attempted to shoot at me. Dead.
Self defense. So what? Honestly, I dont like to kill. But when worse comes to
worst, its necessary...I thought. I decided to do another surprise attack. One Patriot
was lying on the ground. The target was easy enough. His head faced the muddy
ground, and I suspected hed turn around soon. When he did, I was surprised, and
so was he, considering he had a musket in his face.
Prepare to die. I said strongly, yet my confidence was shredding down to
the last bit.

Wha-what? he asked. He was lying over a dead body, tears streaming

down his cheeks. Hed attempted to bandage up the wound, yet it was no use. The
soldier was dead. The young boys clothes were tattered, and he was bloodied up
pretty bad. He was confused and angry and disappointed all at the same time. I
guess he was disappointed in me. That stung.
Here, I sighed, kneeling down to the body. He looked at me in amazement,
but then his face lowered as I frowned in his direction. Im sorry, I said, my
voice raspy.
Its okay, he said, choked up. Thank you, for, you know, not killing me.
You saved my life in a way.
I smiled. Well, I was the one that put it in danger. He laughed, but then
quickly cringed. I tried to prop him up.
Thank you, he said, as if every word caused him great pain. This was
probably the kindest Patriot Id ever met. He hadnt insulted me yet, and he was
extremely polite. I guess not all Patriots were fiery tempered and quick to kill.
We should probably get out of sight before, you know, somebody kills us,
I advised. He nodded, and hobbled along with me to behind a bush. We sat there
for a few minutes, catching our breath. Then we heard a huge BANG!

August
I guess I was expecting to die. This redcoat had his musket to my head, and I
was showing weakness by crying and lying down. (Way to go! Every great soldier
showcases his weaknesses to his enemy!)
But he didnt shoot me. He took in the situation and then took me to safety.
This was the kindest Loyalist Id ever met. He wasnt as fiery tempered and quick
to kill as I thought. Maybe he first viewed me that way.

Once we were hidden behind a bush, he inspected my wounds. I didnt

notice it, but Id been cut pretty bad. If that wasnt bad enough, I spotted the threat
of another redcoat too late.
BANG! A pain shot through my spine. Aaaah! I shouted in pain.
What, what? Oh, lord, the soldier muttered. He continued speaking but his
words were clouded by my flaring, red pain. My thoughts buzzed like bees were
trying to escape from my skull. Ive been shot, I realized.
I reached into my satchel and grabbed a fresh sheet of paper and a pen that
the Army had supplied us with. My mind was scrambled, but I forced myself to
write a letter to Mother.
Dear Mother,
I regret to inform you that Im dead...probably. By the time you
read this, Im a buried corpse rotting in the ground. On that
pleasant note, how are you? I would say I am fine, but Im not. I
love you very much. Please tell Little Willy and Maria the same. I
hope they grow up to be amazing people, and strong warriors.
Love,
August
No. Dont think like that. Youre not going to die. But I didnt know that for
sure. Reality was escaping my grasp. The world was blurring, and I felt like I was
being pulled underwater.
Maybe this is what Father felt as he escaped existence. With a final breath, I
spoke to this soldier. What is your name? I asked him, my voice cracking, my
body fighting to stay active.
Aaron, he said, his voice shaky. I knew it was hard to watch someone die.
I felt bad for him.
Im August Smith. Please. Please give this letter to my mother. Please
promise me. We live in a little cottage with a big red barn. You cant miss it. Please
tell her that I love her. Please make sure my family is okay. Promise me. While I
was speaking, it felt like someone was forcing down on my chest.
Um, okay. I promise? I-
Thank you, Aaron. I know its hard to watch someone die, but thank you so
much. I will never forget what you have done for me. My chest ached, but the
words needed to be said. Freedom comes with a cost, I whispered.

And then, I was gone.

Aaron
And then he died. Right there on the spot. My heart ached. It longed for a
loving mother. It longed for a way to find the cottage. It longed for August to come
back. It longed for this war to be over. But none of that would happen.
Except for maybe one thing. I needed to deliver the note. I grabbed the boys
satchel, and the locket from his neck. His family would probably want the stuff.
Thank you, August. You are the dearest soldier that I have ever met.
Then I fled the scene to find the cottage. Freedom comes with a cost.