Austin Jewish Academy 5th Grade 2012-2013

PAST ENEMY

LINES

WITH STORIES SUCH AS...

THE DIARY OF

WITHNOK

POWHATAN

LOYALIST DIARY

UNCOVERED AT THE

BATTLE Of BUNKER

HILL SITE

Dear Lovers of the Revolution,

This is an original collection of historical fiction stories set during the times of the American Revolution, by students for students. It is a comprehensive way to teach , learn, and grow in your knowledge of the Revolutionary times. We would like to credit Laurie Halse Anderson for her books Chains and Forge from which we drew inspiration and facts from to include in our stories. We gained knowledge on the events of the revolution from watch-ing Liberty’ kids PBS comic. Revolting Revolutionaries by Elizabeth Levy gave us a factual, but humorous, account of the events leading up to the American Revolution. To put our skills to the test we conducted a web quest to make sure our skills were strong before diving into writing our stories. After the unit we chose an important event and pursued fur-ther information to make these literary works were both an accurate and exciting depiction of the times. The result were these historical fiction stories. I hope you enjoy reading and learning from it as much as we en-joyed creating it!

Enjoy,

Ami Ginor ,Mitchell Worob, and the rest of AJA’s fifth grade class

***********************************************

Created by AJA’s fifth grade, this 2013 copy of literary works is subject to copy write.. For more information contact Ms. Hidalgo and Ms. Rosen at the Austin Jewish Academy

Table of Contents

A. The Diary of Withnok Powhatan

page 3-4

B. Stamps Flying Everywhere

page 5-6

C. Revolts of the Stamp Act

page 7-10

D. The Intruders

page 11-14

E. Past Enemy Lines

page 15-18

F. Tea Party with the Ladies

page 19-23

G. When the Redcoats Were Right

page 24-26

H.The Incident on Kings Street

page 27-33

I. An Amazing Act of Rebellion

page 34-36

J. You Haven’t Seen the Last of Me

page 37-39

K. The War to End All Wars

page 40-42

L. Loyalist Diary Uncovered at Battle of Bunker Hill Site

page 43-45

M.The Last Shots

page 46-49

The Diary of Withnok Powhatan

An uncovered artifact written in the time period of the American Revolution

April 31, 1756 I have met a new friend. His name is Josh Regan, he works for the New York Gazette and he knows George Washington himself. He seems like a very important person, much nicer than most of the British people. He tells me that he can help me improve on my skills that would help me communicate with the colonists. May 1, 1756 Today I’m to learn how to write in English and improve my script with my dear friend Josh Regan. Powhatan Powhatan Powhatan Powhatan Powhatan Powhatan Powhatan Powhatan Powhatan Powhatan Powhatan Powhatan He said that I didn’t need to work on anything but he still gave me this paper to help me: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z May 2, 1756 Today they say that the war officially started “The French and Indian War” although the war isn’t even between the French and us “Indians” but between the French and the British. All that we are to do is help them fight. While I really don’t want to fight, all of us natives are forced to.

May 7, 1756 I would really like to fight with my friend and his British commander. They offer me freedom and money if I fight for them. May 8, 1756 I expressed my feelings about the war and my desire to fight for the British last night at our tribal meeting, to my father Chief Powhatan. Immediately the room erupted with commotion telling me that the “British are liars”, that “It was a trap” and then my father calmed down the room and told me that all of the Natives in our tribe had decided to fight for the French. I don’t want to fight my people in war.

Pennington , Mike. Redcoat in the

Great Hall

May 9, 1756 Today I met the French general, Louis-Joseph de Montcalm-Gozon. He told me that if I fought for them that I would get freedom, money and land. This time and this commander I was able to believe. My father and the rest of our tribe came too. We were given a quick tour of the Fort Duquesne they showed us the “Indian” quarters and then we needed to get ready for tomorrow; “The big day” as they call it.

May 10, 1756 one of the French commanders told me that today was going to be the last time that I would able to write in this book because the war had finally started. I’m quite nervous because I’m fighting against the side that my friend Josh Regan is fighting on. Best case scenario is if I am off on one side of the field or better yet on one of my rare breaks and someone else kills him or he survives. I hope that I come out of this war in one piece and that we can have our freedom and justice for all! Like our com-mander had promised.

National. Guard, twenty brave men.

Skeavington,

Charles. Battlement

, Fort George, In-

verness.

November 1, 1765

Stamps Flying Everywhere

Dear Charles,

I wish I could have the freedom to sit down by a walnut tree and feel the cracking of the shell in my hand and pop one in my mouth.

There is a huge problem here with the king; he is placing tax on everything from cards birth certificates, paper documents, and almost about everything going into the country that involves paper. I used to just be able to walk down to the local bookstore and buy a newspaper, but since the Stamp Act has started, I can-not do so without paying taxes. Because I do not feel loyal to the king, I am considered a Patriot. A good man once said “NO taxa-tion without representation.” To me that means we should have a

say in what we feel.

To give some background, the British government originally needed to raise 60,000 pounds to pay for war costs, but instead the king raised 350,000 pounds more to keep the military maintained after the war ended. I am so angry because I feel that I have no say on the tax issue. Also the British government won’t allow us to elect people to represent us in Parliament; therefore we couldn’t oppose the Stamp Act. Everybody here is furious; Patriots and other colonists started boycotting to stop this.

Brother, have you ever wondered what it would be like if you went down to the store to buy a new deck of cards and you had to pay more? That happens to us every day! I have chosen to lead some Patriots against Britain’s rule! The more we oppose British law and don’t see change, the angrier the colonists get.

Months ago, I found myself doing my usual work and enjoying myself, ending my day with a good game of cards. Soon thereafter, British soldiers were walking up to me and saying we had to pay tax to play this game. And of course you know me, I had to talk back and ask if don’t, what will happen? The response angered me so much I can’t even put it into words.

Every day I wake up and hear the sound of marching boots on the street. Whereas I used to wake up with the sound of the happy colonists and the birds chirping to each oth-

George Washington

‘s portrait when he

was a general.

A ripped envelope

that has the actual

stamp act stamp.

er. You probably do that every day. The colonists on the other hand wake up and gather their billy clubs, stones, and many more weapons to try to capture and attack a tax commissioner. Do you know what they do next, they tar and feather him. How do I know this; I hear every day people running by my window and joining the group yelling, “Let’s get him, let’s kill him.” It might just sound like I am complaining, but I am not. I am so sick of this life and long for peace!

I am just thinking about what it would be like to have free-dom again. I would be able to go to the market again with-out having to pay extra. I would be able to go down to the

book store and to read the most recent newspaper without hav-ing to pay tax. I would be able to buy a muffin and a newspa-

per and sit down and read without being stopped. I would be able to feel like a boy again running through the morning dew with my bare feet, feeling the wind blowing in my hair. From just writing this, I remember what it felt like to be in the meadow with you, I carrying the blankets and you carrying the basket. It feels just like the old days when we were just kids. Please hope that peace is near for us.!

Sincerely, you’re loving brother,

Charles Washington, George

Washington’s brother.

Revolts of the stamp act

You are in for a treat… a story of an unlikely American Patriot hero who went through many struggles to achieve his success. In a small home lived the poor family of John, his wife, and a child

named Payton who was 4 years old. John was a Patriot, who attended many groups, and riots in favor of sup-porting American Independence. His wife Erin was having hard times taking care of Payton, who was a wild kid to control. Pay-ton would scramble around the room screaming for toys and food every day.

John was a Bostonian , who was a member of the Sons of Liberty group. The American patriots like John believed in fighting for liberty in the favor of America, if anything worth protesting occurred

a major taxing law passed, known as the Stamp Act, the stamp act was passed on March 22, 1765. This law was a torment to many colo-nists because people had taxation without representa-tion. Many colonists like John wanted to protest and riot against the event. According to the American patri-ots , rioting was the appropriate reaction to stop the Stamp Act .

John was walking in a huge group preparing to riot, tar and feather a group of British taxers camping along the sidewalks. The taxers were armed with muskets, to protect from rioters. One stood guard, while the other taxers were snoring in the tents. The guard who stood there had sight of the rioters and fired his Musket which would warn them to run away. The noise of the musket soon woke up the other taxers. From the boom, they started firing shots at the rioters. One rioter two steps in front of John fell down and he could not believe this bloody fight had begun. A group of people from the riot poured a bucket of hot tar on a taxer. 2 people from the riot fell, fortunately the hot tar poured on a couple of taxers….

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Web. 13 Feb. 2012.

they fell into the hot stickiness. A couple other taxers fired and one more rioter fell.

the group was ready to retreat, leaving 3 British taxers covered in tar. Sadly, a cou-ple of John’s friends were killed.

When John arrived home, Erin was preparing stew. Payton was playing along with his ship, gliding it across the floor. Erin’s face seemed to be sad; the house was running out of food. Unfortunately, Erin, and John didn’t have enough money to buy the food, and our worry was starving to death.

John thought of quitting his job, when he felt like I should help America. Ameri-ca’s independence would stop the taxing; John would then quit his job as a Patri-ot , and become a true father. John longed to no-longer make Erin have to work hard again.

John usually would walk from the house to participate in Sam and John Adams sons of Liberty Group, which would be a hopeful lead to repealing the Stamp act.

The group discussed on the many argu-ments between Parliament, and King George III on whether they should repeal the Stamp Act. Sam Adams felt freedom, rioting was a success. We had brought down the amount of taxers down to 10%, of the total that started off.

Freedom was on our hands, rioting was on our hands. This was the last thing we needed to do to end the Stamp act . In an hour, the Bostonians were ready to charge with stick lit on fire. We had rocks to throw at the taxers, we had tar. No taxer would like to get in the hands of this.

Johns group of Bostonian rioters were walking outside, the torches in their hands were burning, waiting for the taxers body to get burned. John had a pile of rocks in his hands, preparing to throw them at a taxer’s eye.

The first taxer we came across, was getting ready to go tax a person who bought shoes. He wasn’t prepared to get tarred, hit. When he was walking, and had no sight of us, we threw a couple rocks at him. He slowly turned his head,

Bostonians tarring and feathering-museum, Boston. bostonteapar-tyship.com. Web. 25 feb.20feathering. 0. Boston tea part ships&13

looking out for rioters. The taxer didn’t see us, we were hiding at the corner of a building.

We snuck behind the building right next to him, and prepared to charge after him. Once the taxer saw us, he started to run. He got caught in a group of Bostonians, who brought him to a place where tar was dumped on him. He was trapped by a group of Bostonians, we started to throw rocks at him while he was stuck.

When the Bostonians released the taxer, he told the Bostonians he would never come back. The amount of taxers was now down to 5% of the total that started.

I walked back home feeling free. At the time I was back at the house, I told Erin of how the taxer re-acted to tar, and rocks. Erin smiled to hear total of the taxers still in America.

When I was at home, Sam Adams knocked on my door. He said were going to host a celebration in the Boston common if the Stamp Act was repealed.

Outside I heard good news, king George was having discussions with parliament about repealing the stamp act. All of the taxers were chased out of America. King George III noticed his customers stopped buying the products. This was a fail, king George III decided to repeal the stamp

All of Boston cheered, when they heard that king George repealed Crowds walked through the city cheering. I threw my hat up in the air, and caught it, that I continued to do.

After I threw my hat up in the air for 30 minutes, it was time for me to join the party at Sam, and John Adams house.

Once John arrived, there was a big crowd Sam Adams walked up to john, and shook johns hand. John wanted to thank me for helping America repeal the stamp act, my service in the group was important

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When john arrived home Erin finally had a smile on her face. Payton was still doing what he usually did, that was playing around with toys. Payton seemed to be more relaxed than usual, he would usually scream at Erin.

Tonight, john’s family blessed that no more acts would be passed. John started to pray for freedom of America.

The Intruders

By Gabriela Levitt

Life can be hard and stressful. Sometimes I feel that I will never make it in life. The British are intruding our home and I hate it. Life is already hard enough being a slave. I have been a slave my entire life. My real name is Elizabeth Par, but I have had a dozen last names from switching families. The Parliament passed a new law called the Quartering Act. It requires us to feed, house, and transportation to the British soldiers. It’s insane! Whoev-

er the Parliament is, I highly disrespect them. I’ve been told that they are the British govern-ment. Whenever John Andrews, my master, hears the word Britain or Parliament, he curses under his breath and screams,

“No taxation without representation!” Mrs. Andrews, Master Andrews’s wife, says that he needs to watch his language. Mrs. Andrews is

very kind. She taught me to read and write and she even lets me call her by her first name, Sandy. Being their slave isn’t all bad, I get food and shelter. The house they live in is a lovely house too. It’s a two bedroom house in New York. My master is very kind. Maybe they are so kind to me because they don’t have kids. They always wanted one just like me so I guess I am like their working child. Together they are a sweet family, a sweet Patriot family of course. Master Andrew despises the King and his unfair laws.

Last week we got a new British soldier in our home. He has terrible manners and never ever takes his feet of the table when he isn’t in the barracks. The worst part is that, we are not a particularly wealthy family. So if we have spare food, or spare anything, we want to save it for ourselves. Some people say that I have a big voice for a small person. I guess those people are right. An 11 year old girl can’t stop the American Revolution though.

I learned that a lot can happen in one morning. Master Andrews stopped agreeing to pay for the supplies for the British soldiers. If King George iii wants to have a place for his men, he needs to pay for his men. I heard that some men like Master Andrews refused to pay for the supplies and a Redcoat shot one of the men. Word got around that in all the chaos, a woman’s dog got loose. He ran down the street and the nearby kids fell in their chair laughing. I would do the same. Sandy called me downstairs for some water. Thanks

Gibney, Gerri. American flag.

2013. ?, ?. sonsoflibertynj.com.

to Master Andrews’s loud voice, one of the soldiers heard him and got really mad. Master said

“Why should we pay for these people. They are disrespectful to us and they are as sour as a lemon. The brown haired one is as dumb as a fish!”

“Hello?” Master Andrews turned around to see one of the British soldiers standing behind him. Then he turned to the other soldier and said something in a foreign language then he chuckled. I asked Master Andrew what he said and he told me it meant

“Look who’s talking” I can’t believe he wasn’t punished. It was very rude, especially to the person who was feeding him and living him a roof over his head. I tried to ignore it and I just asked Sandy

“Anything else?”

“No thank you.” She softly replied.

The year that the Quartering Act was established, there was a of lot chaos among the colonies. On Oct. 7, 1765, the Patriots held a meeting in New York. Delegates from nine of the colonies came. They addressed to King George III, the House of Lords, and the House of Commons, saying they were entitled to the same "Inherent rights and liberties" as people in Britain. If they have something to say, they should address the King properly. I am not saying that I am taking his side but they can still show some respect. I used to have a lot to say about this but now it is getting out of hand. The men are actually going to

fight till there are bullets in each other’s head and they are

lying on the ground not even breathing? It’s so childish!

One day Sandy called for some tea and I brought it to her as I was told to. She talked to me for ages about a book she read. I listened respectfully and jumped into the conver-sation from time to time. It didn’t take long for the war to pop up in our conversation.

“Elizabeth, you know about the war and how they need more recruits? Correct?” she asked.

“Yes” I replied

“Well, Master Andrews must go and serve for our country. You know how he feels about freedom. He even promised you freedom. I remember very clearly, he said, you might not

Silver, Richard. Boston Tea

Table. 2009. ?, ?. http://

Smith, Kevin. The Quar-

tering Act.

0. ?, ?. Blogspot.com.

have independence now, and neither do we. Not a lot of the other families can promise this, when we get our freedom…. so will you. We only need you here so we can have help when we are out working. You know, so we can make some extra money because of the taxes. When they take away the taxes, you can go back to where you came from. Anyway, he will be gone. You need to make sure to not be impo-lite in front of the soldiers. You shouldn’t have to be disrespectful anyway. It is lunch time now. After you feed me you can go serve the soldiers.” Then she left the table and when to the privy. Then I went to serve her, it was her favorite. Beef ala mode and apple but-ter on toast. Yum. When I went to serve the British soldiers in the barracks, I saw that the

new man was sleeping and had bandages on his arm. I won-dered what happened. He must’ve been shot in battle. Why risk your life for freedom when you can’t even live to see it? Sandy says it is for their friends and family. I guess that’s good enough.

The next day, Master Andrews left for the war. I really do hope he is okay on the battle field. I can’t imagine only having Sandy, and Sandy would be crushed. I gave him a mug of coffee

before he left. I am actually pretty sad that he left to fight. Who will give me my freedom? Everything is just so overwhelming and nothing bad has happened to him yet.

Two weeks have passed and all I have really had to do was bring Sandy her food and serve the soldiers. We got a letter from I-don’t-know-who the other day. I am guessing the army. Anyway, Master Andrews has died on the battlefield. Sandy was heartbroken. I don’t

want to sound insensitive or anything, but ever since Master Andrews died, Sandy has been really clingy. I don’t know what to do. All I wish is to go back to where I came from. My mas-ters back in Philadelphia are neutral and there was no politics and drama. They are just normal people who don’t

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fichiers, Par-

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Wilkinson , Thomas. Philadelphia house in 1765.

2010. ?, ?. www.brynmawr.edu.

want to take a side. I love Sandy here but I miss Philadelphia. Now that Master Andrews is gone, my job has gotten easier but so much more dramatic. I was fine back home in Phila-delphia and that is where I should be. I know I don’t need to worry though; I will get back home someday.

Past Enemy Lines

Up close in the American Revolution

By Ami Ginor

They touched my hair. They whispered in my ear. They slept in my bed. They ate my food. They came, with no warning and with no intention of leaving.

It was the dead of night and papa was out with the “army”. It was danger as always. The door flew open and my mother put a night cap on. She glided down the stairs and hushed me up the oak banister. Never in my 13 years have I seen her so fo-cused yet oblivious. She tossed me a knowing look with her eyebrows raised and her finger to her lips. She carefully tucked her great uncles locket into her nightdress and signaled for me to do the same.

The Quartering Act was underway. Momma’s friends have had been invaded and it was just a matter of time before our broken family would have a new addition. Only I didn’t know it would come in fours!

The four, four, Lobsterbacks reeked of stale beer and probably had one… or ten bottles but I dare not say. In a toothy smile he entered our home with a heavy drunk British accent.

Soilder in Quartering

Mother masked her fear but I saw her breathe in the smell of manure, and gulp. She mustered up all her courage and spoke.

“Run along Sally, everything is okay.”

I took the hint but heard the quiver in her voice. I rushed to Mae and I’s room and found her stirring. Her doe eyes fluttered open with innocence.

Her tiny groggy voice half slept half asked “Who are those men at the door? Where’s mama?”

“Go to sleep Mae; don’t worry your little head. They are mama’s guest .They will be spending the night with us in mama’s room and she will sleep with us for a night, it will be fun, I swear.”

The last part was under my breath more to convince myself than Mae.

Sure enough the British laughs echoed off of our American walls. Mother was in our small wood work bed singing to calm Mae. She was giggling and squirming, so ignorant at times. The British were conversing in our parlor. They had popped open the champagne that we were saving for the night of pa-pa’s homecoming. When they drowned the last of it it was time for dessert. I had gone to the market the day before and we

Quartering act posted by nick

On the way I heard the king’s soldier’s hoots and hollers. They were all cheers and spirits. I creaked open the privy door and a British “guest” was coming out. The door swung open and hit me square in the head.

“Watch where you step, incompetent little girl.”

I, of course, knew that it was not my fault that my head that was throbbing.

“Bloody girl!” Said the British officer.

So this is how it would be. I get frustrated and cannot scream. I cry and cannot be heard. I will be a slave and not be freed. This is how it will be because of the British.

I know that momma does not believe in owning others, but the next morning I could have used some help. I had to make some-thing from nothing. The porridge for three turned into porridge for seven leaving mine an empty bowl. My stomach turned as I churned the butter and made the beds. There has not been a nickel to spare. Mae had trekked to the water pump with buckets pulling her arms to ribbons. The officers had more interest in tea and wine, so water was my supper, lunch, and breakfast. Knowing the recent taxing acts, like the Sugar act that made even my cake bitter because the price was over the roof and the wretched Stamp act that made it so even writing now is costing me, it would be wa-ter that was going to be out of my life. Ink, documents, books, dice, it all was no more because of the British needs. Mae has needs, a mouth to feed, a body to dress, they don’t care about her.

It is domestic suicide. Bakers can’t bake, writers can’t write, and our mother is lost in hope for her husband, my father, to return. Sure, the taxing was unjust but I had a family, a real family, until the colonist had to fight. They cried “Give me liberty or give me death!”

Now we got death, and plenty of it. The black grave yard is stuffed with white bodies, because they are full with dead, crushed, dreams. I don’t want freedom for America, I just want my Papa back.

It was a full busy day but it felt like eternity. The new riots and gangs in the streets were a real nuisance when trekking to the pump. The townspeople cried and chanted, wept and danced, and some who had a task to carry out and would not let liberty get in the way. I want simple things. I will pay a tax gladly but no one; no one tears apart my family. I just can’t afford to think like that. I never could. When tea is 16 cents a pound what am I supposed to do. Time is money, and my family does

not have any to spare.

The fishmonger had no halibut, no salmon, and no cod. The baker had no rolls, no yeast bread, and no crackers. The world was in dis-tress because of this silly war. I keep to my sad thoughts until a shot echoed of the dusty cobble-stone streets. It was madness, an open fire from a line of rag-tag volunteers for the American army. The British navy ships were hurling cannonballs at the harbor. We were under attack. I ran across the dock

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“Ma’am open the door, take your belongings, were under at-tack, at the harbor, Ma’am I beg of you leave, take your chil-dren!”

Inside the home the woman was finding her husband’s gun. She was at loss without her husband when he is at war. She stuck the muzzle of the gun out the peep hole.

“And how do I know you are luring me into your trap. You took my husband, beat him, but you won’t take me. My children are my life and if you want them, come to me first.” She said in a shaky, uncertain voice.

“No Ma’am. I am for the Liberty of the people, the land I was raised in, and the land of the free and I urge you to take your family and leave!” I inhaled and spoke.

The words tasted bitter in my mouth at first. The land of the free, I’d be fooling no one. I repeated the words in my head. The land of the free, the land of the free, the land of the free. It was a new sensation. I could see it, taste it, hear it. America would be the land of the free, and the home of the brave if…no…when… the American’s prevail.

Rustic American flag

Tea Party with the Ladies

Written by Isabelle of Friedman: Observer of the Meeting

On November 26, 1765, I went to a meeting that would change history! A tea party at the lovely Adams’ household. But not just any tea party. On this cold and stormy night, I met with 6 lovely ladies, Abigail Adams, Betsy Ross, Martha Washington, Phil-lis Wheatley, Esther Reed, and Mercy Otis Warren. You may know them because of the actions they took in supporting and fighting for their liberty. That night, the women debated on how they could assist the rebellion against the dreadful Quartering Act.

Before the meeting, the women began by intro-ducing themselves. For those of you who don’t know Abigail Adams, she was the wife of the revolutionary John Adams. She had a strong knowledge of philosophy, politics, and poetry. Because of this, she was bound to enjoy Wheatley, who was a poetry writer herself. Phillis’s owners taught her how to read and write. With these skills, she later wrote poetry

about the American Revolution. Her masters instructed that she was to be a free woman when they had passed on. I suspect that Washington didn’t approve of Phillis, as she was a slave-owner. I have learned from a relia-ble source that upon wedding General Wash-ington, Martha gained many black slaves, along with her former slaves. (Proof that women can accomplish great deeds was shown by Esther Reed.) This maiden, along with other ladies, formed the Philadelphia As-

sociation. This group sewed many shirts for the soldiers fighting for their independence. A similar woman was also at this tea party, Betsy Ross. She helped to sew tents and blan-kets, and also fix uniforms for the Continental Army. We also had a comedian. Mercy Otis

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Warren wrote a hysterical play that makes fun of the ruddy “Lobster-Backs.”

After introductions were complete, the Lady Adam suggested that they went around and expressed their complaints. The women asked for assistance in moving the plush chairs so that they could all see each other. Adam went first in discussing her objections to the Intolerable Acts. “These protests are killing the colonists, along with the British. King George is forcing the colonists to house the British. Our colonies cannot support this Quartering Act, along with these extra mouths to feed. I myself am forced to house these ungrateful soldiers,” she complains, “We can’t just let the men do all of the work. We must act!”

Next Phillis Wheatley spoke about her com-plaints for the revolution. “A historic statement, from a historic lady,” she began, “Although I don’t have my freedom yet, I believe that all of the colonists should be able to do as they please.”

“Words spoken from that of a fellow writer,” Mer-cy complimented, “I believe that you should have your independence too since you are trying to assist every-one else in gaining their independence, but your own as a free woman. However,” Mercy started, as her face turned into a grin, “I suggest that whatever we do to help the patriots, should in some way make fun of the retched Lobster-backs.”

“Why would we do that to them, when we can help the patriots without putting blame for ourselves, our family, and the revolution itself?” Betsy asked, “I have lost so much al-ready. Why would I want to make my life any worse?” Martha started to interrupt her, but Ross continued. “They have inhabited our homes. It could get so much worse. We need to make a stand, and tell them that they can’t just push us around like pawns on a chess-board. We are independent, not just playing pieces.”

“May I speak?” Martha asked. The women in the sitting room all nodded. “My hus-band is risking his life, and that of his soldiers. We should respect that. I know that Abi-gail’s husband; John Adams is helping this cause in ways other than fighting. Perhaps we could try similar actions against the British.”

?, ?. Martha Washington

“I agree,” A small voice to my right said, “Violence will not stop everything,” It was Esther, “We should let the men, our husbands, whom we love so deeply, fight, but we, the mothers of our country, should be the pacifists. I believe that our stand should also show the British that we are more than an opposing side; we are also families, peacekeepers, and so many other things. If we fight,” she said dramatically, “Then all of that will be lost.”

All the women were on the edge of their seats, waiting for the next sentence. “I agree.” An echo seemed to appear out of

nowhere. Everyone agreed. Violence is not essential, not even the least bit im-portant.

“But how could we help?” Mercy asked, “The men don’t even listen to us.”

“Then we need to make them,” Washington declared, “They’ll listen if we catch their attention.”

They continued on like this for roughly an hour. Those who were unsure about this plan slowly but surely changed their opinions. Finally, the six women were on the same page. “We should act soon, no matter what,” Abigail insisted. Upon this they were also agreeing. Suddenly the fire went out.

Betsy then said, “I’ll get it. Do you have any good wood?”

“Wait,” Esther said, “I have an idea.”

“I suggest we set up an organization where we put boxes around town. People can put wood, blankets, shirts, anything in them that would help the soldiers.”

“It’s perfect, especially because it’s winter. The men are bound to grow cold,” Mar-tha said after Esther explained her idea. “Who will set the boxes up?”

“I will,” Abigail answered, “It’ll be good for me to stretch my legs after this storm.”

“We also need someone to make signs for the boxes,” Esther added.

“I will,” Phillis replied, “I can add historic statements, or even some of Mercy and I’s

?, ?. Olny Cottage Prayer Meeting, Led by

Newton & Cowper

writing.”

“That would be perfect!” Esther commented, “I can put posters all around Boston.”

“It’s too bad we can’t get them out to other cities,” Phillis added.

“Maybe we can,” Mercy said excitedly, “Betsy, Martha, and I could go to New York, Charleston, and Lexington to put up the signs and boxes!”

“Why stop with just the three of us?” Betsy asked, “All of us could go to different cities and put boxes for the wood.”

“Wait, we could also help stop the Quartering Act with the Sons of Liberty!” Martha suggested.

“I hate the Quartering Act. It defies the fact that our property is to whomever, and ONLY whomever we please,” Abigail complained.

“That’s perfect. We can help the Sons of Liberty while we’re in the city.”

“Shall we meet back here in… shall we say, six months?” Everyone agreed.

Roughly six months later, on May 19, 1766, the same six women met at Abigail’s household. The women wanted to converse outside in the sunshine, so they set up picnic blankets on Abigail’s back lawn.

After the hellos and how-are-you’s the women went around and told all about their results. Abigail’s time in Boston was victorious. It seemed that the Sons of Liberty had made such a statement there, that almost the entire city was already sided with the Patriots. Because of this, there were more than enough people willing to donate. She was the most successful as the other women did not receive such a nice response. Phillis went to New York, and it seemed that either the colonists there did not want to help, or were too afraid of the British’s wrath. Mercy accompanied Martha to Lexington, and they only filled four boxes. Although Martha knew several Patriots, they would not help the cause. Esther tried a door-to-door method and she got absolutely nothing out of it in Charleston. Betsy was almost as victorious as Abigail in Philadelphia, she filled over twenty-four boxes of blan-kets, and even more of wood. They all decided that Martha was to bring the wood and

?, ?. No Violence

blankets to General Washington to do with as he saw fit.

During those meetings, I saw something spectacular. Six women met together be-cause of the wrongs in the world. These meetings proved that everyone, even women, can accomplish something if they put their mind to it!

When The Redcoats Were Right

A story about the trial for the Boston Massacre By Mitchell Susswein

I, Hugh White, a British Private, am writing this docu-ment so that I will remember what happens here today for as long as I live. If this trial goes badly, and I am put in the clink*, my life might not be that much longer. This is the trial for the “Massacre of the Century”. I know that the event wasn’t a massacre! A mob was pounding** me. How could those traitors called Patriots twist reality like that, Samuel Adams in particular? Horrible! I can’t believe that John Adams is our lawyer. He’s a Patriot! Well, that at least means that Patriots might realize it was all in self defense. With my fellow soldiers, I am sitting in an uncomfortable wooden chair. I am in the cor-ner of the courtroom that is as huge as a house. In the center is a round wooden podium with a place for a speaker in the center. The room has plain dark red carpet on the floor. On one side there are benches for the jury, and on the other side there are benches for the spectators, though I doubt that this trial will be very exciting.

John Adams comes up to the podium to begin his speech. “May it please your Hon-ors, and you Gentlemen of the Jury, I yesterday afternoon produced from the best authori-ties, those rules of law which must govern all cases of homicide, particularly that which is

now before you; it now remains to consider the evidence, and see whether anything has occurred, that may be com-pared to the rules read to you; and I will not trouble myself nor you with laboured endeavours to be methodical...” he starts. There is no way I will be able to copy all of this down, my good memory will have to serve.

“Will Hugh White please come to the podium,” says the judge. It’s starting. I do as he says and come to the center. “What happened during this shooting?” asks John Ad-ams.

“Well, it all started when I was standing outside doing my daily duty. I was walking around when I saw something speed by me and I turned around. I saw a piece of ice hit a rock and shatter, then there was something on the other side of my body, I turned around

(Traveler, Dyersburg. Courthouse)

(Trumbull, John. John Adams )

and there was a rock flying through the air! “Your honor if a mob - that is what it was sir, a mob - was attacking you would you stand there and just dodge, or would you call for help, so you don’t break a bone? I chose the latter. When I called, eight men came out. They were Captain Thomas Pres-ton, Corporal William Wemms, James Hartigan, William McCauley, Matthew Kilroy, Wil-liam Warren, John Carrol, and Hugh Montgomery. We tried to get the mob under control, but a bloody darn club was thrown and hit my comrade, Private Hugh Montgomery, so he was knocked down. ‘Damn you, fire’ yelled Hugh Montgomery.

“I did just that. It was bullets and rocks flying through the air. It was a dramatic experience, even though it only lasted a couple of minutes. I have bad aim, and was low on bullets, so I didn’t kill anyone, although one person I wounded. After that the Massa-cre was over and we left town,” I finish worriedly.

“You may be seated,” declares the judge. I sit down and wait for the next person to come up.

John Adams leaves the stand and the prosecutor, William Molling, comes to the center. “Will Sam Andrews please come to the stand,” asks William. Once he gets there William asks, “What happened at the Bos-ton Massacre?” So that is what they’re calling it! Lies again! “Well,” starts Sam Andrews, “It started many months ago when the Quartering Act was passed. We were forced to house and feed the soldiers for reasons that I don’t agree with. Some of us aren’t rich enough to pay for the extra food, others don’t have enough room to house those that are at war against them!

“If you were in this situation, some of the soldiers you have to house are on the streets, and they were ordered not to shoot, would you sit back and stay idle, or would you harmlessly taunt them? I chose the obvious choice, the second. It was just some snowballs and some pebbles, nothing to shoot about, but he called for help and that is what they did, shoot!

“I had good friends there that day. Even though I wasn’t hit, my friend Crispus At-tucks was killed in a very cruel way! “Killed! After that they left town, out of ammo and in disgrace.” “Thank you Mr. Andrews,” says the judge, “you may return to your seat. As he does that Hugh Montgomery curses under his breath, saying that he probably will be found guilty.

(Strauss, Richard. Rifle)

It has been many weeks and I feel that I should finish this paper because the matter has been settled. I am very relieved about the outcomes, though I’m not the one being brand-ed. Hugh Montgomery and Matthew Kilroy have been found guilty of manslaughter, and they will be branded on their thumbs. The rest of us were found innocent and are free to go. Perhaps, one day, I might have to revisit the issue, but for now I am putting this account into a safe place. One day I will take this document out of storage and read this important article again so that this life-changing event will remain in my memory for the rest of my

(Merodio, Iker. British flag)

The Incident on Kings Street

March 3, 1770

The cool water hit my face, “Get up!” the maid yelled. I slowly slinked out of my excuse for a bed, and went to put on my clothes. After I was dressed I gently shook Jane up and awake. In a flash she climbed down from the top bunk of our hay covered mattress and ran to the dresser to put on her clothes. The bed underneath me creaked I didn’t want to wake the slave under us, she held a grudge. A bit of hay fell on her forehead and her reflexes kicked in, her eyes opened in a flash. “boy!” she snapped “stop waken people up and get to work! You know the master wants his breakfast early and hot!” I solemnly nodded, I

dared not disobey her, or else it would be a fight and a whipping for me. I care-fully stepped down the ladder trying not to wake her up, and put on my old shoes. Jane and I walked down the icy hallway her hand in mine. I loved the way her red flaming hair looked so silky in the morning and how her brown eyes and skin looked at me for wisdom, she was beautiful for age nine, and strong headed like our mother, her looks were my fathers with bushy eye brows and small hands. Let alone she was a perfect chilled, just none realized it. . I was glad she was my sister, at age 16 it was my duty to protect her for life, I prom-ised on my father’s grave. As we tiptoed into the kitchen to get the mistresses

and masters breakfast plates Jane fetched the eggs. Suddenly the mistress bel-lowed “boy, girl fetch my tea!” How I hated that mistress, but I replied “yes ma’am” I could remember the last time I refused to get her tea! she whipped me like I was the devil himself. Her makeup made her look like she was a clown. Her big body would smash Jane if it got a chance. Sometimes on stressful after-noons her makeup would droop down and made her look like a real clown! A scary one. The master himself was displeasing to the eye. He was such a grogger! Every Sunday night he would go to the bar and drink up every last bit of money in his pocket. When he returned home he passed out like a pig in the mud on the couch, and when he awoke the mistress was ready to throw a fit at him. Most of the times he would dodge it and the master and mistress would not speak together for a month. Outside the cold stung my bare skin, and my teeth chattered with pain, how I longed for heat. When I got to the watering hole all the water was turned into ice, there was a long line with at least twenty people, waiting to get their ice. “da*m I said to myself. After thirty minutes of standing outside in the freezing cold the watering man gave me the second to last piece of ice. He dropped the ice on his foot and cursed, his beard was fro-zen with ice dangling down from his nose. I helped him pick it up and put it into my watering bucket, “thank you sir” I whispered for people in the apartments were still asleep. Once I was back in the house I nearly fell on the floor, my legs were limp from the cold. After the mistresses tea was made, the old crone who had told me to be quiet slugged down the hallway. That lazy cow. The mistress

rang her bell, and Suzan a.k.a lazy cow grew a spine and prepared the break-

Mistress finch= Master finch

fast. Minutes later Jane hade the tea ready and cooked, with green leaves and the faint smell of mint.

March 4 1770

People are going crazy! The white people and their families keep talking about taxation without representation, there rousing a war to be born! The master sent me and Jane to go fetch a turkey, for there was company. When I first heard someone say “This isn’t fair” I knew there was going to be trouble. Jane clutched my arm as we entered the market for there were people throwing bot-tles, men shouting, and a few men being aggressive. We went over to the meat station just in time for a raw cow tongue to wiz right past my head. The meat man cussed. “state your business boy!” he screeched over the noise. One turkey please sir I shouted over the noise, he passed me the plump fat of a turkey, I handed it to Jane. I said my thanks to the meat man who was still dodging cow tongues and scurried out the store. Not looking ahead I bumped in to Crispus Attucks the free black slave who worked himself to buy freedom. “Good day” he boomed to me and Jane. “You too sir” I replied, and watched him march into the market of horror. Jane let go of my arm and held my hand. We walked along the road for a few blocks, and then I heard a loud “gurgle” I looked over to find

Jane rubbing her stomach. “hungry?” I asked she nodded, for today was the day we stopped at the bakery on the other side of town (that was not crazy) to fetch a slice of turtle pie. When we walked in the man glared at us, although

Bread bakery

the people were rotten the food was sweet, and we strolled up to the counter. “One turtle pie slice please” I asked graciously, “three pennies “he grunted. I placed the three pennies on the table, he handed me the pie. His quick glare told me to say thank you and to leave. As I did his glare slowly turned into a smile, what a pig he wanted me to leave! Jane and I sat on the park bench near the lushes green trees and enjoyed our baked turtle pie. When we arrived home madam finch was in a fuss! “boy!” “girl!” you’ve had your time! Fetch my water and clean the house. I drifted off while she was explaining, Jane clutched my hand to tell me that madam was going to hurt my when I was dazing off. I didn’t get the signal I just kept wandering about the forest the next Sunday and eating turtle pie with Jane, I could almost taste the sweet turtle it but all I tasted was a slap to the face and a kick to the legs. I winced in pain. “Boy!” madam barked

are you listening?” “yes ma’am” I said in a shaky voice. After madam was gone Jane took a wet paper cloth and touch my face with it. “ouch” the pain burned like hell but I knew not to scream, Jane kissed my cheek. “its ok” she soothed, it seemed like I was the little brother. Thank you I whispered, she just smiled. After I did my share of the chores I helped Jane do hers, as we walked back to the bed chamber I asked “do you remember mom and dad?” she just laughed “of course” she replied. I had a dream last night; colonists were making fun and taunting British soldiers to shoot at them. The colonists had no idea that the British soldiers would actual-ly shoot at them, but when someone threw a club at them they did. When I

Chrispus Attacks

awoke my head was hot with sweat and Jane was staring at me like I had three heads. “Im ok Jane just go back to sleep please” she slowly sunk back into bed while I soaked all of the sweat with my towel.

March 5 1770

The dirt patio was soft on our bare feet as me and Jane skipped down the road. It was one of those days when the mistress would let us get water and take about an hour to do it. Me and Jane ate more turtle pie today. I wish mama and papa were here! We watched the spectacular sunset and talked about the mis-tress. Sometimes these day could be lovable. When we were heading back to the house Jane pointed out look!” when I did my dream started to come back. A young man maybe twenty was shouting very ugly words at a British soldier.

“this must have been because of the taxes “I said aloud. The sugar act, and the unfair other taxes were causing American colonists to lose money. Quickly I covered Jane’s ears, I didn’t want her to hear the terrible language. The soldiers face was red and without thinking he his the man on the head with a sharp gun butt! The man looked startled and dosed off towards the other block “whew” I said I tried to move jane but she wouldn’t budge. “you ok?” I asked. Complete scilence except for the faint sound of men shouting, the shouting got closer, and closer, and closer! Until at least twenty five men were yelling, calling names shouting bad words at solders. It was exactly my dream! How could this hap-pen? And they were guarding the costums house where the government took place. Suddenly the church bell rang which sent hundreds of people to join the mob, Jane and I watched in horror while the mob threw rocks and snowballs at

Boston massacre

the solders. A club hit a soldier he shouted with pain. When I looked over to see who threw the club I was shocked to find crispus attucks grinning a huge guilty smile! How could he? After I trusted him I ran over to crispus ready to ex-press my anger when pain shot threw my leg like the devil itself. Never before had I experienced such agony, I cried out in pain and fell to the floor. “aaaaah” crispus did the same but he was not screaming, I had a feeling he was dead! “Jane!” I yelled “Jane” my world was getting fuzzy, but I couldn’t stop looking for Jane. I was now sprawled on the floor blood flowing out of my leg! I ripped part of my jacket off and wrapped it around my leg. “Jane!” I was now whisper-ing “jjjjjjaaaaaaaannnnnneeeee” the gunshots continued. Right when I was about to faint, I felt a hand on my shoulder it was Jane. “run” I said with my last breath until the world went black. When I woke up I was in my bed chamber with a bandage around my leg. I shuddered when I touched it, my mind sud-denly turned to Jane. Was she alive? Was she ok? Suddenly she walked in the room. “Jane!” I was so happy I fell to the floor, she helped me up. “easy there cowboy!” she said. She handed me the newspaper that told all about the inci-dent on king street, and how I made the cover of the black man shot. Jane’s face suddenly drooped down to a frown, “what’s wrong?” I asked “Crispus, died your not the only one who was shot” “what?” a tear dropped down my face, Crispus was my mom’s friend practically my family.

March 6 1770

I’m trying to save pennies to buy our freedom like crispus did, Jane's a maid at the ginors house and I sweep stables, I wish mom and dad were here, I almost forgot to mention them, I should because they gave me this journal. My mother and father were kind people friendly to all. One night our master was robbed by a tall man with a ugly completion, and dirty blond hair. Once our master was killed my mother and father hid me and jane in a trap door, jane started to cry but I rocked her in my arms. My mother kissed both of us, and tears swelled her eyes. My father had to pull her back, because she wouldn't let go, then she closed the door to the trap door and left. Days passed, but jane and I would not

budge. My mother had put food in the safe to last us a few days, when the food was gone we starved until a police man found us and sold us. The sad thing is that I don't know if my parents are even alive, and one day I will find out. Me and Jane are ready to start a new life together, and a happy one.

An amazing act of rebellion

The Boston tea party

By Hennery Johnson an American Patriot at the act

Printed on December 16th 1773

A few weeks ago, an amazing act of rebellion against the British forces oc-curred at the Boston Harbor on the date of December 13 ,1773.

A group of patriots, one being I, Hennery Johnson dressed up as Indians and boarded a British ship with a huge cargo of tea.

The Sons of Liberty boarded the ship and dumped all of the tea into the Boston harbor. The act of rebellion was a success accept for the fact that the King of England, King George III sent ships full of soldiers to go and attack the Patriots.

I Hennery Johnson, gen-eral of a small part of the

Sons of Liberty say “Without this act of rebellion ,we would have never lasted this long.”

“It gave us an opportunity to show the Parliament in England how much we re-ally want our freedom and that we would fight for it if we had to.” I was there when we infiltrated the ship.

The sons of Liber-

ty throwing the

tea into the water

As I dumped the buckets of tea into the cold ice water I felt something I had not felt in a long time, freedom. It is an amazing feeling. it runs through your bones with exhilarating power.

It is something amazing that you only feel once in a life time. The night of the raid went like this:

It started when we went and gath-ered all of the Sons of Liberty in the Boston area. We went and got mud and feathers and tried to look as much as we could to be Indians.

We walked as quiet as we could in the dead of night. When we got to the ship we walked into it as casually as we could. The disguise worked for a few seconds, and then all hell broke loose.

The British started firing at us as we dumped tea into the harbor. Some of our men were killed including my friend John Riley. We fled after we had dumped all the tea into the water.

Around 3men were killed but the rest of us were safe and sound.

Sadly after this, the king sent soldiers from England to make a blockade around Boston Harbor until the tea was paid off.

The sight of dead, bloody men on the floor is something no person should see with their own eyes. It is a sad thing when you see a man die for their country. Sadly it happens in this time of war.

But… we will fight back, earn our freedom and receive representation from the Par-liament. Without the Boston Tea Party it would not have given us the courage to get

The Boston tea party

our freedom and to fight another day. It gave us an advantage because we got to show Eng-land how much we really wanted our freedom.

My fellow Sons of Liberty were happy as well but the first thing they did was go and cele-brate at a tavern in town and get drunk.

I instead went to send a letter to my brother who lived in the Indies for a short while. He was a scientist and he had no news about the Rebellion since the beginning. I usually sent him things every two or three months. It was hard to send the letter to him because we boycotted all stamps so I had to send it secretly without a stamp and have a person sail to him with my letter and others supplies.

I went and sent the letter to him and went to bed. When I woke up I found Brit-ish war ships on the horizon and I knew we would fight again. We ended up hav-ing another problem; the British closed the Boston harbor until we paid for the tea that we had thrown into the water but it was too much and we never did it.

In my opinion I see a huge reason for this rebellion. We had taxation without representation.

We got taxed for everything from playing cards and birth certificates, to molasses, honey and sugar.

England thinks we are a fledgling country and would crumble down to their feet if they let us free. They don’t think we could make it but they are wrong.

We have no representation against the parliament in what they do to us. We are like ants try-ing to take on a huge boot.

I believe that this time we will come together into one huge county and defeat the boot and regain our freedom.

America is no longer a small country but an eagle and will rise up and become a new na-tion.

The American Flag

You haven’t seen the last of me!

Boston tea party

By Sophie Wolf

After the Tea Act, we were furious. We were raging. We were ready to fight. This was a bloody hell we didn’t want to be in. Making us pay taxes on our everyday life items, I re-fuse!

My name is Patrick Rider. I’m in a group called the Sons of Liberty. I would crawl to the ends of the earth to receive my freedom from those damn Redcoats.

We were all in the Old South Meeting House when Samu-el Adams stood up on the wooden block and shouted over all of us, “Is this how you wish to live your life? Is this how you think we deserve to be treated?” We had no idea what he was talking about. “All of these taxes, do you think we deserve this?” We all just sat there and grum-

bled. We continued with our conversations. “Wait!” He shouted. “Hear me out! We can change this. We can

do something, and this is what we do… the British ships are docked in the harbor with all of the tea they brought. We’re going to dress like Indians and jump aboard that ship. We’re going to dump the tea over board… sabotage their things; show them how angry we are!”

“Yeah!” We raised our glasses and took a swig. Sam Adams stepped down and we went back to our activity.

It was midnight when Sam called us from our homes. We threw on the most ragged clothes we could find and fashioned a feather head band. Then we marked ourselves with ink making designs around the top of our arms. We sneaked out of the houses without a peep so our families wouldn’t wake. We found bushes and trees to hide behind so the Redcoats wouldn’t see us until we hopped aboard, if even then.

(Boston Tea Party)

(Old South Meeting House)

As soon as the boat was in sight, we made a run for it. We jumped over the edge and quickly found the tea. We started throwing it over board as Sam was telling us that we only wanted the tea, nothing else.

As soon as we were finished, we hurried out of that vessel with wide grins across or faces. Once we started running, the Redcoats came chasing after us. We started screaming at the top of our lungs, “No taxation without representa-tion!” and of course, we outran them. Unfortunately, not every man was lucky enough to escape with their lives. Some had serious injuries and some had small wounds but the majority were fine. After the tea party, some people fled Boston. They didn’t know what would happen if they got caught so they packed their suitcases and left as soon as possible.

The next morning, the news was abounding. It had spread like chicken pox in high court. We were all nervous about leaving… not sure if the Redcoats

would recognize us; so instead, we just stayed in our houses completely hidden. Of course we had to answer the ques-tions of our families for why we were staying home so we all just told a little white lie like, I don’t feel too good, or, I’m just going to stay home today.

Late that night, we all gathered up in the Old South Meeting House for a Son’s of Liberty meeting. We had to

talk business. We all knew what this was about. “We can’t hide anymore!” someone shouted. “My families

are getting suspicious!” said another person. “Alright! Alright!” Sam Adams shouted. “I get it.” “Tomorrow morning, we’re all going to gather here again 5 am sharp. We’ll make breakfast and then, when morning comes, we’ll all go out together. If we’re all together, the Lobsterbacks won’t be able to chase us all at one time. That way, almost all of us will be able to escape.”

(Crate Of Tea)

(Wooden Boat In Dock)

We were all so tired we just nodded and went along with the conversation. When Sam said we could go home, I almost just fell asleep half way there. I had to pull myself along the road.

It seemed like by the time I got changed and got in bed, my pocket watch went off. I was still dragging my feet along the road and when I got to the meeting house, I collapsed on the table. We all arrived in time but we all had attitudes

since we were all so tired.

When morning came, we all tilted our hats down towards our faces and picked our collars up. When we all huddled together, I got stuck in the middle. I was so squished, I felt like I had to scream just for people to move, so I did just that. It wasn’t a very loud scream, loud enough so the

other Sons of Liberty around me could hear but not too loud so I wouldn’t wake the families or draw attention from the Redcoats.

For the next few days, we continued like that. After about a week, we thought we’d be fine so we went back to our normal lives. We all had the time of our lives getting those Lobsterbacks back and I will never forget it. I can now call myself a real patriot.

(Newspaper)

(Men Sitting Around Table)

The War to End All Wars

The Battles of Lexington and Concord from the Point of View of a Neutral Businessman

“One if by land, two if by see,” word of Paul Revere and William Dawes great midnight ride spread throughout the city of Philadelphia like fire in the wind. As a journalist for the Pennsylvania Gazette, Benjamin Franklin sends me wherever the news should take one. I bring back all the information I can fit in my parchment pouch. On days off of work like this Sunday, I print a composition of the hectic event of this age. Mobs, protests, boycotts,

and riots are now common actions among pa-triots. Lexington and Concord, however, is a spark that could ignite the flame. An uncon-trolled battle, firing without orders, chaos in-stead of glory. After a chat with Captain John Parker, it was clear the battle was confusing and chaotic. The minutemen of Boston scram-bled into Lexington after warnings by Revere and Dawes, to hold off the Lobsterbacks led by Major Pitcairn, while the rest of the militia took their stand at Concord. The British led by

Colonel Smith were routed at the bridges of Concord and shot at the whole long march back to Boston, where Brigadier Lord Percy’s backup force waited. Over two hundred fifty British soldiers were killed, including nineteen officers. The Patriots losses did not exceed ninety. Nobody knows who took the first shot. From then, the heavens opened up. Argu-ments on either side still rage. The British claim the colonists fought unfairly, against the rules. Colonists claim they are protecting their resources. Ever since the passing of the In-tolerable Acts, tensions and disputes have strengthened between England and our colony or state, as patriots call it. With no representation in parliament, patriots feel they cannot be proper English citizens without a say in the laws and taxes. These laws have sparked riots, mobs, protests boycotts, and much conspiring. I met with the Sons of Liberty at the old South Townhouse. Many claimed they wanted to take action against the taxes passed without the citizens’ consent. Many members were also tired of being England’s “child” and expand the country as a free one. Many laws have been passed that are unfair and wrong, without our say. England has gotten desperate for money since the French Indian war, and the money spent holding the land firm. Now England has to reach into our pockets without

The First Shots Fired on the Lexington Com-

mon, April 19, 1775

our consent. In my opinion these taxes are not that bothersome. They require little money, but in many of our everyday items are taxed. Sugar, molasses, and even written documents from England are all on the list. Angered traders from Europe say that the colonists were some of their best business. Now, many boycotts are taking place, trying to protest the tax-es. Here in America, however, we have plenty of wealth, and the only part of these laws that angered patriots was the fact we had no voice in the passing of these laws. Otherwise, these laws were not a very bad thing, and in my opinion this conflict is meaningless suffer-ing. All this battle has been is a damned mess of blood, among the other uncontrolled ve-hemence leading up to this.

The colonists have the right to oppose the crown and I do not interfere with that. However, I do not want to busy myself with atrocities like riots and tarring and feathering. I could get caught by the king’s men and thrown into prison with the other rebels. I have family in England, and my merchant business runs through Europe. I do not want to endanger my business or workers. The Crown is an old, well established system, and will work well with those who negotiate peacefully or cooperate. Mob violence shows how erratic rebel rule could be. I could lose my home to mobs and riots and with chaotic rule and opposed sides on slavery could lead to civil war.

I do however admire the rebels’ perseverance in the face of fire. They bravely charge into hardship and despair, with limited resources and finite support. Franklin assigned me to talk with some of the Militiamen that fought at Lexington or Concord. They are pleasant men and women with souls stronger than stone. They are brave folks, willing to die for their country and people. Many of the soldiers fighting as patriots are desperate for work or freedom. Some also want a way to kill legally. Many patriots want to simply help their country, or try to weaken the king for their own personal reasons.

I spoke with loyalists in New York, and many want the war to end. They live among patri-ots, but they are not convicted of anything. Loyalists in New York are still confident that the British soldiers, organized and as numerous as ants, would easily crush the unor-

The British Redcoats and the Boston Militia Clash at one

of the bridges at Concord

ganized militias of the colonies. Many Patriots are happy and euphoric. With the Sons and Daughters of Liberty protesting, boycotting and supporting our militias, and the Continen-tal Congress Negotiating with England, many Patriots are celebratory and confident. Soon the Continental Congress will form the Continental Army, and bring all the patriotic Militias together. Soon, the colonies will be at England’s throat, and England’s hand at ours. If war breaks out, (which I think it will) war will also start civil problems of taking sides.

This colony has a divided mind, both sides brutally attacking the other. If this goes on, our colony will destroy itself. Either England gives up America, or the rebels let the king have America. Whichever comes first the better. Our nation is divided and we need one leader, one focus, and one dedication the entire nation can share. Lexington and Concord is just the beginning. For years there was conspiring, treason, and riots. Lexington and Concord is the first official act of bloodshed, and now the stage is set. Tension has broken into cha-os. There will be more battles, each one more horrible and gruesome than the next. We are a fledgling nation. We have many problems, like slavery and government, which need to be smoothed. But first, we need our nation united together as one machine, one body, and one mind. We cannot fight each other like madmen over petit problems like loyalty. We need to make our decision with representation from everyone, as one nation, to stop the pointless death.

I hope my opinion on this revolution of power can be voiced and heard in history, so fur-ther unnecessary war can be prevented. Many would call me a coward. I do not cower under the menacing threat of war. I voice my opinion to the community for the sake of this colo-ny’s life. I do not side with the king or the patriots. I side with peace and happiness, for the sake of our lives. This will not be an easy path to take, but one that is worth the sacrifice.

-William Thompson

Loyalist Diary Uncovered at the Battle of Bunker

Hill Site

The Battle of Bunker Hill was a gruesome battle, but helped both sides realize that the war won’t be won from a single win. Both sides had a heavy loss on June 17, 1775 at Breed’s Hill, Boston. Instead of being called the Battle of Breed’s Hill, Bunker came from the Patriots. Right before the battle, slaves started to build a wall so it would be a bunker for the rebels. This diary is most unique. Many of the patriots’ diaries were found at the first dig on this site. None of the Redcoats’ dia-

ries have been uncovered until now. Read the Diary below for a look at how the Redcoats really felt about the Revolution. June 17,1775 The Battle Of Bunker Hill

I’m writing this entry after our gruesome battle of Bunker Hill. We, the Loyalists, won, though the loss was great. The battle started with 2,400 British troops marching towards Breed’s Hill while 1,500 rebels protected it. Now only about 1,366 of us are left. The Patriots have retreated with their 1,100 troops. During the heat of the battle, a cannon ball bar-reled towards me. I of course did not kick the bucket or this entry would not be written. Just in the nick of time, my Captain, Alvin Williams, yelled; “Folger, hit the deck!”. (If anybody reads this after I die, I was named Collin Folger III after my father Collin Folger II and my grandfather Collin Fol-ger I).

Before the battle, Captain explained our tactics. It was a surprise attack. From our tents, we could see the giant wall separating us from victory. The rebels would probably just try to defend their land. We worried that the Patriots might realize that they could beat us and more would more would join the revolution. Though we have strength and numbers, they have spirit, determination, and Washington (who happens to know most of our tactics). Our

worries are still not confirmed, but I feel that they will be soon. As we watch through the spyglasses, the slaves started to help. Since the slaves started to fight, their strong hands worked the cannons. More and more of us started to drop. The Captain realized this, and marched us forward, out of cannon range. In the tent, I helped the Captain draw a route out of cannon range and to the back for a small group to attack from the behind. The element of surprise failed us, so we changed to a front on battle, to distract the army. I suspected that the Patriots could see our redcoats as we sat in the tent, because of their vibrant color.

Dbking Andrew Jackson

Un Known Stand Your Ground

Sara Joachim untitiled

By: Ellie Landrum

As the slaves started to work faster, my suspicions were confirmed. I was in the front line and prayed that this wouldn’t be the end of Collin Folger III. I am alive, or this entry wouldn’t written. Hopefully, I will return home to my lovely wife and children in England after the war.

Even though our first strategy failed, we still managed to drive the rebels back to the peninsula. I don’t believe that fighting is an answer, but I will fight for my country if I must. The loyalists shall prevail! The fight will continue, and I’ll be there to be in it! The rebels may say; Give me Liberty or give me Death! All of that talk of Liberty will just be dreams. The “Americans” are only a group of blockheads that can’t even get a uniform, much less fight a war! They will get destroyed by the supreme army of Britain. We know that Washing-ton is a fighter, but all the others are just talkers in over their heads. They will tremble un-der the eyes of court and Britain. George Washington is a strong man, but he will crumble. This battle is an example. Washington’s fail of an army was destroyed under the supreme forces of Great Britain.

My Captain told me I am finally starting to think like a Redcoat. He realized that when I told about the group in the back attacking from be-hind. I moved pieces of the armies on our map. The war is like chess. You have to figure out what your opponent will do next, think of all the possibilities. Then make your move. Sometimes, people think that war is just fighting. They are wrong. War is just fighting, but strategy and tac-tics are in there too. An army can’t just fight. That will just create chaos. Strategies are what keep less bloodshed. Bloodshed is what makes death. The angel of death is the red of bloodshed.

As I look around our battle field, I see dead bodies, cold and stiff. I see holes in ground, and bricks littered everywhere. What was once a beautiful field, is now destroyed by the armies. We destroyed it. Maybe the warpath wasn’t the right choice. I now realize that I was wrong. War is not the answer. I only want to see my family and My land; breath-taking England. I will only continue to fight because I cannot back down now. I am fighting against my pride, as well as the rebels. I will come home, my love.

This diary is contradictory because it goes against everything we learned about the Revo-lution. Since we only found Patriot diaries in the searches, the Redcoats were seen as the bad guys. After finding a few more pages of the diary, the architects found a map of Bunker Hill with all the fighting tactics. The historians were puzzled most by the change in the man’s feelings. Also, the historians and librarians searched the books for Collin Folger III, and found that he was a very important loyalist, and soldier. The architects were literally jumping for joy when they learned that they discovered the diary of Collin

HousingWorksPhotos Marble Chess Set

Folger, famous Redcoat from the battle of Bunker Hill.

The Last Shots

We have finally reached the British fort with the French. When we got there, there was no

guns fired, so we started to dig trenches, knowing we would be here a while. We made sure

we were 800 yards from the British fort, so we would be able to prepare, just in case they de-

cide to attack.

During my free time, I made lead bullets while the other soldiers were playing cards. All of a

sudden, the British started to charge towards us; I quickly picked up my gun and charged with

the other rebel soldiers. When we reached them, I stabbed the bayonet into a British soldier,

who then falls to the ground, dead. All I can see is blood and metal, all I can hear is screams of

dying soldiers. This is more than a living hell than I thought it would be.

I load my gun and fire it at a British Soldier. When it hits him, his left leg was bloody, a few

seconds later; another soldier hits him in the head. Suddenly, cannons start to fire and I see

body parts flying everywhere. I reload my gun, for another kill, but right before I shoot, I get

shot in the leg. After this, I shoot the soldier, who did this to my leg. When, I fall on the

ground, the British soldiers start to retreat.

My leg gets wrapped up in a bandage, and gets a brace, so I could continue to fight for free-

dom. The next day, the

British start to fire at us

again. I am told to fire the

cannons at the British. I fire

cannon at a few British sol-

diers, killing them instantly. I

reload the cannon and fire

again, killing more people.

All of a sudden, a cannon

fires and hits a soldier head,

which then cracks open. I

know I must pay attention if I

want to say alive. Realizing

that cannons are the British

soldier’s main target, I abandon my cannon, and use my gun instead.

I start to run, but then remember about my leg, and slow down. I shoot at a British and hit

., KYNGPAO. Surrender at Yorktown, 1781. 2012. ., Kansas. Flickr. Web. 12 Feb. 2013.

him in the thigh. As I continue to fight, the person right by me gets shot; I turn to the person

and realize he is my brother.

I scream in anger and run towards the British soldier who killed my brother. When I reach

him, I kick him on the ground, and jab the bayonet into his throat and heart several times,

until he is dead. After this, I kill several other British, to get out my anger from my brother’s

death.

A few minutes later, the British soldiers retreat. Then I realize that the ground is red from

all the blood, from the dead. I realize how lucky I am to still be alive after the first 3 days of

this battle.

During the night, one of us stays guard, while the rest of us sleep. Each hour, we switch

people to keep lookout for the British. When it is my turn, I see nothing for a longtime, and

then it happens, I see lots of red coats running towards us.

I shout for everyone to get up. By the time we all get up, the British have already started to

shoot at us and stab us. When one of them misses with their bayonet, I stab him back. By

the time all of us get out of our trenches, we then noticed, that 400 of us died.

My leg starts to hurt a little, but I fight through the pain. I see many soldiers dying this

Fouse, Eddie. Cannon War Gun Blue Forest. 2011. ?, ?. Pixabay. Web. 14 Feb. 2013.

night. Eventually we retreat and the British don’t chase after us.

I wake up and write in my journal, that this is day 4 of the battle, around 400 of us died last

night, and my brother died the 3rd day. The British haven’t come out to kill yet, so we sneak

towards their base. When we reach their base, we climb the walls, with the ladders we

brought with us. Then we jump down the 6Ft wall, and start to attack. I fight angrily, like the

rest of the troops.

The British fight back, fortunately, we overpower them. A few minutes later they force us

out of their base. When we get back to base, we fire a lot of cannons at their base. After a few

seconds, part of their wall falls off. Eventually, a section of their wall is gone. We start to go

back to their base, with our weapons, and the British do the same.

The sun starts to rise, and this is the 5th day of this horrid battle. We start to fire cannons,

into the crowds of British soldiers. I start to fire at them with my gun. I then run towards an

abandon cannon, and use it. I fire at the British, reloading as fast as I can, and fire again.

When it was almost night time, no one has retreated.

I knew this was the last battle in Yorktown. Every second, I hear screams and people falling to

the ground. So many people dying, I thought to myself. All the sudden, a soldier in front of me

gets shot and dies. Then, British soldiers bayonet misses me by an inch, now I know I am on

the front line.

I shoot at a British soldier and miss. A few seconds later, he is right in front of me, and miss-

es with his bayonet, I stab him with my bayonet, which finds his heart, and kills him. Then I

realize that it is the middle of the night, and we are still fighting. We are still fighting, until the

sun rises. The British call a cease fire, and surrender to us. WE HAVE WON!!! We finally have

Malamud, Carl. Springfield M1903 Rifle, .30 Caliber with Bayonet and Sling. 2004. ?, ?. Flickr. Web. 14 Feb. 2013.

our freedom.

Later that day, 5000 troops, from my side, come off a boat, and are prepared for a fight, but

find out the fight is over.

Conclusion

A few days later, we found out that we outnumbered the British, and around 8000 of them

surrendered at the end of this battle. Also, I found out that my brother was one of the 72 re-

bels killed in this battle. I was one of the 180 rebels wounded. The last thing I found out was

none of us got captured.

THE END

A

Abigail Adams Abounding Act

American Revolution

Americans

B

Battle of Bunker Hill

Benjamin Franklin Betsy Ross Boston Tea Party Boston Massacre Bostonian Boycott

Breed's Hill Brigadier Lord Percy Britain

British British Government

British Private British Soldiers

C

Cannon Captain John Parker

Captain Thomas Preston

Captured Cease Fire

Charles Washington Charleston Colonel Smith Colonies

Commander Conspiring Continental Army Continental Congress

Corporal William Wemms

Crispus Attucks

D

Daughters of Liberty Delegates

E Esther Reed

F Fort Duquesne Fort French French Indian War freedom

G

General Louis-Joseph de Montcalm-Gozon

New York New York

Gazette No Taxation Without Representation Neutral

H

High Court Hugh Montgomery Hugh White

I Independence

Intolerable Acts

J

Jamesn Hartigan

John Adams

John Carol

K King George III

L

Liberty Lobsterbacks Loyalists

M

Major Pitcairn

Manslaghter

Martha Washington

Matthew Kilroy

Mercy Otis Warren

Midnight Ride

Militia Militiamen

Minutmen Mobs Muskets

N

New York New York Gazette

No Taxation Without Representation

Nuetral

O

Old South Townhouse

Organization Outnumbered

P

Parliament

Patriots Paul Revere

Peace Pennsylvania Gazette

Philadelphia

Phyllis Wheatley

Prevail Privy Protests

Q

Quartering Act

R

Rebellion

Rebels Redcoats Repeal Representation

Revolution

Riots

S

Samuel Adams

Sons of Liberty

Stamp Act

Sugar Act

T

Tar and Feather Tax

Tax Commisioner Tea Act

The Battles of Lexington and Concord

The Crown Thrown

Treason Troops

V

Vehemence

Vessel Violence

W

War William Dawes

William McCauley

William Warren

Y

Yorktown

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