Stop! Story time!

[ArmyDude]

Yea I'm bored, so I decided to make another story. Been a while since I've posted a story. Well, here it goes. It's a short story btw. We were working on short stories in English class.


The Wait
By: Wargod95


"Alright! Line up troops!" yelled Captain Yerlin.

All of us stood in one straight, continuous line. One person to the next, lined up nice and tighty in our tight, wet trench. The rain was pouring this evening. The sound of the rain was the only sound that seemed to break the silence that filled the air.

Captain Yerlin stood from one end of the trench. He turned his head to face the line of emotionless, possibly frightened, troops. He marched slowly to the other end of the trench. For every step he took, he stared coldly into our eyes. There seemed to be nothing that scared the Captain. Strangely, it kind of scared me. Most of the time, he only gets that stare when he knows something big is going to happen, and that he already experienced it.

When he came to my face, he stopped. He stared ghostly into my eyes. He had that look in his eye that seemed to say "dead man." He continued to inspect the rest of the troops. After a while, I couldn't see him in the endless row of frozen soldiers. Some started to start their prayers. Others were cleaning their bayonets or knifes.

The Captain came back from what seemed like a lifetime. He stood in front of a ladder. He then yelled:

"Fix bayonets!"

Chills went down my spine, like a train going down the track. I hesitated for a moment, but I managed to get my bayonet out. For some reason, my hand was shaking uncontrollably. Either from fear, or because it was cold. But I managed to get the bayonet on my Springfield. Men were ending their prayers. Others were taking last looks at pictures of friends, girlfriends, or family.

We stood there in eerie silence. For some reason, it felt kinda of relaxing. But that all ended when the Captain came back. He took one last glance of us before taking his first glance into a peroscope. He grabbed hold onto the ladder, and the order was given. Sergeants and officers from sections of the trench were all yelling the same order.

"Over the top!"


Tell me what you think. Feel free to tell suggestions, comments, or anything else.

[Timeline]

its pretty good :). i like it, but its really short for a short story.

lol, i wrote something with a similar setting... what the heck. here it is :)

my story

This book doesn't have a fancy title, and this book doesn't have a fancy author. I have the information necessary, and a pen and paper. After all, how much does an author really need?

it was December 5, 1776. the heat of the revolutionary war drained the morale of patriots and loyalists alike, inflation was staggering, neighbors were cruel, and the country was in turmoil. but while i was being trained and fighting, i found myself thinking of the country. My home, my family, all that i held dear disappeared. My most prominent regret while in the Continental Army was one of the most surprising to me. I imagined myself gazing through the back window of my carriage as i left, while my wife and two boys waved goodbye. I left at 4:00 in the morning, and seeing through the frost covered windows was nigh impossible. I left my wife alone to manage our small shop, and raise our children, the decision was one of the hardest that I ever had to make.

On my first day formally enrolled in the army, i stood in a line of men who's story seemed eerily similar to mine. regretting leaving their wife and children, still smelling of the baked bread they were sent off with. Nobody was really happy to be there, but we all felt a common duty to our country, and this is what would carry us throughout one of the most difficult wars in history. I quickly came back to reality as the officer in charge continued shouting —what was it?-- a cold shock of fear zapped through my spine as i realized with a start that the officer was yelling my name! this was my first roll call, and i had already made a fool of myself. I squeamishly raised my hand and was awarded with disapproving looks by officers, and fellow countrymen alike. I managed to make it to the mess hall without making much more of a fool of myself. as soon as i sat down, a burly man with muscular arms, a shaved head, and outfitted with an ordinary military uniform seated himself next to me. he said nothing, and started digging into his stew. i took advantage of this opportunity and started looking him over, standard boots, standard jacket, standard everything, really. but then something shiny caught my eye, he had a medal of some sort, and i made it a point to ask him about this when i had the chance. he suddenly looked up at me and said earnestly; “you better not pull a stunt like that again, these military people are strict, you will be set on kitchen duty if you keep acting so ignorantly”. He briskly stood up to leave, and i came out of the stupor produced by what he said long enough to ask his name. “private Wallers” he said, and left to finish his stew elsewhere.

I soon learned the name of our trainer, a german man named Von Stuben. At first i was weary of the man, considering that the german mercenaries [hessians] were the most powerful part of the british fighting force. but we all soon became to know him as a brother. He taught us to use the same technologies that the british had claim to. Like fighting with large knives mounted on the front of the gun called bayonets. We were enlisted for a year, and many men cracked under the pressure of not knowing what was happening to their wife and children, resulting in many training injuries, under suspicious circumstances. bayonet in the leg, gunstock to a shoulder, i heard it all during my months at the training camp.

Around two weeks into my training, we stood at roll call while a military man with excellent posture, and a commanding aura marched by. His uniform had several ribbons, and assorted medals from past achievements. For some reason we all stared at him, nobody knew him, but he was the type of man who instantly gained respect. he suddenly halted in the center of the roll line, turned on his heels, and looked us over. “You did well Von” I noticed that Von had materialized behind the roll call line as he said; “thank you, Mr. Washington, it means a lot to hear that from you.”. Mr. Washington? could this be our famed commander? i thought incredulously. General Washington then addressed us as a whole; “Thank you all for answering the desperate cry from our newly appointed congress. We are in desperate need of assistance and value your support greatly. But i am sorry to say that you will soon be transferred to the front lines in an upcoming battle. this battle will help decide whether we will gain additional forces from the french. As you know, they are already aiding us, but this is a clandestine relationship. The British were the victors of the french&Indian war, the bitterness on France's part has probably given them the initiative to lend us forces in the first place. But they do not want to be embarrassed by another grueling defeat. in consequence, this will be the deciding factor in the revolutionary war.”. He announced this on Christmas day.

For the two weeks after this statement, the barracks were on high alert. Men often glanced at the muskets on the wall, and kept ammunition in their satchel to prevent it from being misplaced. We never took our boots off, even to sleep, because of our fear of setting off at night. Rations were reduced, because nobody had much of an appetite, especially for the disgusting stew. Letters home were doubled, and as the economy became more grim, men had breakdowns worrying about their family. I am ashamed to say that i was almost relieved to set off for battle, for the quiet before the storm, was the most agonizing part of a war.

we trudged through despicable circumstances for hours on end. Our shoes wore through, our rations lowered, and we had to fight just to get to the british. We mixed hair powder with our stew to make it more substantial. Some soldiers drank molasses instead of the rum our officers promised us, unfortunately, this caused crippling diarrhea. As if to make matters even worse, it was in the middle of january, and it was a few degrees at most. Because of our less than adequate circumstances, we only covered five to ten miles a day. we eventually camped near a large hill, and the officers stunned us by telling us that the very british army that we were about to battle, was right over the hill. prayers circulated the camp, pictures of family were placed in boots, bayonets mounted on muskets, and a felling of brotherhood was prominent on everything. longtime enemies made amends, officers addressed their men, and everyone said goodbye. for we knew that many of those around us—including ourselves, might not live see to the next day. The common vote was to stay until the morning, but those in charge eventually convinced us that we may be discovered by then, and lose the element of surprise. which was about the only advantage that we had access to.

The commanding officers soon decided to send a phalanx around the back of the British, and distract them with guerilla tactics on top of the hill. I was assigned to the dangerous position, on top of the mountain. This was also the most difficult place to shoot from, since the musket balls often whizzed over the heads of the british.

Just twenty minutes before my group started shooting, we erected defenses to hide behind, and started gathering ammunition. All the sudden there i was, lying on my stomach with my my gun loaded. the phalanx circling around was ready to go, all the had to happen was one person t-- “BOOM”. and there it was, the first shot was fired, from then on life was a blur...reload, aim, fire, reload, aim, fire, reload, aim , fire. This was all that was going through my mind, not the british i was killing, not my family, not even my own safety. just the cold efficiency of this deadly pattern. smoke filled my vision, i was completely blind to what was around me, but I'm not even sure i noticed, all i knew was; reload, aim, fire, reload, aim, fire, reload, aim, fire. that was all i heard, that was all i saw, that was all i felt. The shooting around me soon stopped, but i kept going; reload, aim, f-- “STOP IT, ITS OVER”. somebody yelled above my shooting, i fired three more shots before the smoke cleared. the British were slain, and the other phalanx was nowhere in sight. I suddenly realized that this small group had defeated the entire British force before the other phalanx had even made it to the british.

After the battle i walked around, Shell shocked, i didn't have much else to do, so i walked to the infirmary. there were a few people injured, one stood out immediately; it was private Walkers. As soon as i saw him i knew his wounds were mortal. “So what is that medal for?” i asked. i had nothing else to ask, my sensed were dimmed, and i didn't have any long drawn out advice. He looked at me dead in the eye and said; “its a mark of shame, i was a general, but i used an inexperienced group of militiamen. We all ran at the sight of the british, and i left the other general to die. I have been demoted to private and i changed my name, i was general Gates. I will surely go down in american history as a coward”.After listening to this statement, i walked home, i started walking an i didn't stop until i reached my family.

[MEHELLO]

That story is pretty cool, have u ever wanted to become an author?

Because ur pretty good at making storys and they r interesting.

[ArmyDude]

its pretty good :). i like it, but its really short for a short story.

lol, i wrote something with a similar setting... what the heck. here it is :)

my story

This book doesn't have a fancy title, and this book doesn't have a fancy author. I have the information necessary, and a pen and paper. After all, how much does an author really need?

it was December 5, 1776. the heat of the revolutionary war drained the morale of patriots and loyalists alike, inflation was staggering, neighbors were cruel, and the country was in turmoil. but while i was being trained and fighting, i found myself thinking of the country. My home, my family, all that i held dear disappeared. My most prominent regret while in the Continental Army was one of the most surprising to me. I imagined myself gazing through the back window of my carriage as i left, while my wife and two boys waved goodbye. I left at 4:00 in the morning, and seeing through the frost covered windows was nigh impossible. I left my wife alone to manage our small shop, and raise our children, the decision was one of the hardest that I ever had to make.

On my first day formally enrolled in the army, i stood in a line of men who's story seemed eerily similar to mine. regretting leaving their wife and children, still smelling of the baked bread they were sent off with. Nobody was really happy to be there, but we all felt a common duty to our country, and this is what would carry us throughout one of the most difficult wars in history. I quickly came back to reality as the officer in charge continued shouting —what was it?-- a cold shock of fear zapped through my spine as i realized with a start that the officer was yelling my name! this was my first roll call, and i had already made a fool of myself. I squeamishly raised my hand and was awarded with disapproving looks by officers, and fellow countrymen alike. I managed to make it to the mess hall without making much more of a fool of myself. as soon as i sat down, a burly man with muscular arms, a shaved head, and outfitted with an ordinary military uniform seated himself next to me. he said nothing, and started digging into his stew. i took advantage of this opportunity and started looking him over, standard boots, standard jacket, standard everything, really. but then something shiny caught my eye, he had a medal of some sort, and i made it a point to ask him about this when i had the chance. he suddenly looked up at me and said earnestly; “you better not pull a stunt like that again, these military people are strict, you will be set on kitchen duty if you keep acting so ignorantly”. He briskly stood up to leave, and i came out of the stupor produced by what he said long enough to ask his name. “private Wallers” he said, and left to finish his stew elsewhere.

I soon learned the name of our trainer, a german man named Von Stuben. At first i was weary of the man, considering that the german mercenaries [hessians] were the most powerful part of the british fighting force. but we all soon became to know him as a brother. He taught us to use the same technologies that the british had claim to. Like fighting with large knives mounted on the front of the gun called bayonets. We were enlisted for a year, and many men cracked under the pressure of not knowing what was happening to their wife and children, resulting in many training injuries, under suspicious circumstances. bayonet in the leg, gunstock to a shoulder, i heard it all during my months at the training camp.

Around two weeks into my training, we stood at roll call while a military man with excellent posture, and a commanding aura marched by. His uniform had several ribbons, and assorted medals from past achievements. For some reason we all stared at him, nobody knew him, but he was the type of man who instantly gained respect. he suddenly halted in the center of the roll line, turned on his heels, and looked us over. “You did well Von” I noticed that Von had materialized behind the roll call line as he said; “thank you, Mr. Washington, it means a lot to hear that from you.”. Mr. Washington? could this be our famed commander? i thought incredulously. General Washington then addressed us as a whole; “Thank you all for answering the desperate cry from our newly appointed congress. We are in desperate need of assistance and value your support greatly. But i am sorry to say that you will soon be transferred to the front lines in an upcoming battle. this battle will help decide whether we will gain additional forces from the french. As you know, they are already aiding us, but this is a clandestine relationship. The British were the victors of the french&Indian war, the bitterness on France's part has probably given them the initiative to lend us forces in the first place. But they do not want to be embarrassed by another grueling defeat. in consequence, this will be the deciding factor in the revolutionary war.”. He announced this on Christmas day.

For the two weeks after this statement, the barracks were on high alert. Men often glanced at the muskets on the wall, and kept ammunition in their satchel to prevent it from being misplaced. We never took our boots off, even to sleep, because of our fear of setting off at night. Rations were reduced, because nobody had much of an appetite, especially for the disgusting stew. Letters home were doubled, and as the economy became more grim, men had breakdowns worrying about their family. I am ashamed to say that i was almost relieved to set off for battle, for the quiet before the storm, was the most agonizing part of a war.

we trudged through despicable circumstances for hours on end. Our shoes wore through, our rations lowered, and we had to fight just to get to the british. We mixed hair powder with our stew to make it more substantial. Some soldiers drank molasses instead of the rum our officers promised us, unfortunately, this caused crippling diarrhea. As if to make matters even worse, it was in the middle of january, and it was a few degrees at most. Because of our less than adequate circumstances, we only covered five to ten miles a day. we eventually camped near a large hill, and the officers stunned us by telling us that the very british army that we were about to battle, was right over the hill. prayers circulated the camp, pictures of family were placed in boots, bayonets mounted on muskets, and a felling of brotherhood was prominent on everything. longtime enemies made amends, officers addressed their men, and everyone said goodbye. for we knew that many of those around us—including ourselves, might not live see to the next day. The common vote was to stay until the morning, but those in charge eventually convinced us that we may be discovered by then, and lose the element of surprise. which was about the only advantage that we had access to.

The commanding officers soon decided to send a phalanx around the back of the British, and distract them with guerilla tactics on top of the hill. I was assigned to the dangerous position, on top of the mountain. This was also the most difficult place to shoot from, since the musket balls often whizzed over the heads of the british.

Just twenty minutes before my group started shooting, we erected defenses to hide behind, and started gathering ammunition. All the sudden there i was, lying on my stomach with my my gun loaded. the phalanx circling around was ready to go, all the had to happen was one person t-- “BOOM”. and there it was, the first shot was fired, from then on life was a blur...reload, aim, fire, reload, aim, fire, reload, aim , fire. This was all that was going through my mind, not the british i was killing, not my family, not even my own safety. just the cold efficiency of this deadly pattern. smoke filled my vision, i was completely blind to what was around me, but I'm not even sure i noticed, all i knew was; reload, aim, fire, reload, aim, fire, reload, aim, fire. that was all i heard, that was all i saw, that was all i felt. The shooting around me soon stopped, but i kept going; reload, aim, f-- “STOP IT, ITS OVER”. somebody yelled above my shooting, i fired three more shots before the smoke cleared. the British were slain, and the other phalanx was nowhere in sight. I suddenly realized that this small group had defeated the entire British force before the other phalanx had even made it to the british.

After the battle i walked around, Shell shocked, i didn't have much else to do, so i walked to the infirmary. there were a few people injured, one stood out immediately; it was private Walkers. As soon as i saw him i knew his wounds were mortal. “So what is that medal for?” i asked. i had nothing else to ask, my sensed were dimmed, and i didn't have any long drawn out advice. He looked at me dead in the eye and said; “its a mark of shame, i was a general, but i used an inexperienced group of militiamen. We all ran at the sight of the british, and i left the other general to die. I have been demoted to private and i changed my name, i was general Gates. I will surely go down in american history as a coward”.After listening to this statement, i walked home, i started walking an i didn't stop until i reached my family.


I don't want to sound like a Grammer Nazi but.. you might want to capitalize those letters after the periods and the I's. It kinda makes you look bad as an author.

[Timeline]

I don't want to sound like a Grammer Nazi but.. you might want to capitalize those letters after the periods and the I's. It kinda makes you look bad as an author.

yeh i know, thats unedited. grammer nazi? lol, now thats originality. But uhm, lol, what did you think of the words in the mockery of english classes everywhere?

[ArmyDude]

yeh i know, thats unedited. grammer nazi? lol, now thats originality. But uhm, lol, what did you think of the words in the mockery of english classes everywhere?

Overall, I thought it was pretty good.

However, I think you might want to work on your setting (as in the background/landscape, surroundings, etc.). I'm a person that likes to visualize when I read, and I really couldn't see a clear picture in my head.

But pretty good.

[DS]

That was a pretty good story you have there. I saw no fragments and you could easily picture what is going on in your head. You should really be an author, it felt like I was reading a real book. Keep up your writing skills.

[ArmyDude]

That was a pretty good story you have there. I saw no fragments and you could easily picture what is going on in your head. You should really be an author, it felt like I was reading a real book. Keep up your writing skills.

I'm suppose to go to Advanced (or whatever it's called) English next year in highschool (I'm in 8th grade).

I might think about being an author when I grow up. Almost everyone that has read my stories on the forum has had good comments on my stories. I'm really starting to think about being an author if this keeps up.

[Eiliosdraye]

Chronicles of Demiereafil Intrusion book 1(Intrusion is a series of short books based on the landscape with the same characters, all taking place inbetween next book and book before and having much less plot heaviness[how much it effects the Planet])

I'll be working on that.

Here's a little sneak peak of the characters.

Leir: On a mission to Demiereafel searching for his family after getting a note, he meets up with Shine(see below) to form the Order of the Neo-Enlightened(ONE, little matrix joke), a group attempting to take out the many Vyramp tribes.
Shine: A wasteland explorer by nature, Shine is a maniacal revolutionary fighter who was driven half insane when a single Vyramp took out the entire village of 124 that he lived with, except him. He is determined, and extremely dangerous, but friendly, until he sees a Vyramp.
Talin: Leader of the Wolverine Vyramps, a highly advanced group of Vyramps who are unique for using Wolvechs, which are modified vehicle mechs created from parts of different pre-war vehicles. Highly dangerous, and believes all the other Vyramps are Mitants.
Reim: Leir's older brother, saved his life hundreds of times, but is now barely more then a legend among Wastelanders. Songwriters sing of him, giving hope to Wastelanders everywhere.

Groups from Demiereafel.


Wastelanders: Simple townsfolk who have adapted to the Core Explosion of 2E43(Second Era[about the year 1500 AD]) when a nearby star exploded sending radioactive matter so far, and bounced off the 7 moons of Demiere's reflective surface, causing a microwave effect burning the environment to a crisp, and mutating everything in it's path.
Order of the Neo-Enlightened: The Neo-Enlightened are a group of advanced fighters who have adapted to Mitant and Vyramp tactics, and are working with the City-States all around the planet to rid the world of Vyramps.
Mitants: Mutants, some are zombielike, others are advanced brutes, some are small wasplike organisms, they take many forms, but all follow Tribeleaders, which are massive, massive creatures with immense intelligence and strength, but are extremely unstable and react with most surfaces and usually confined to an area where they do not die.
Vyramps: Extremely mutated humans, superpowerful, extremely intelligent, and have unique abilities. Vyramp numbers are few, around 1-2 million(Compared to the 300-400 million Mitants and the 2-3 billion Wastelanders), but a single Vyramp is rumored to be able to lay waste to an entire city, according to Shine. Very dangerous, but they travel in groups of two, and all have a genetic weakness.

[ArmyDude]

This thread seems like it has turned into a "post your stories here" thread.

Lul. I don't mind anyways. It's great to see other authors out there.

:)

[Hamzter]

Yea I'm bored, so I decided to make another story. Been a while since I've posted a story. Well, here it goes. It's a short story btw. We were working on short stories in English class.


The Wait
By: Wargod95


"Alright! Line up troops!" yelled Captain Yerlin.

All of us stood in one straight, continuous line. One person to the next, lined up nice and tighty in our tight, wet trench. The rain was pouring this evening. The sound of the rain was the only sound that seemed to break the silence that filled the air.

Captain Yerlin stood from one end of the trench. He turned his head to face the line of emotionless, possibly frightened, troops. He marched slowly to the other end of the trench. For every step he took, he stared coldly into our eyes. There seemed to be nothing that scared the Captain. Strangely, it kind of scared me. Most of the time, he only gets that stare when he knows something big is going to happen, and that he already experienced it.

When he came to my face, he stopped. He stared ghostly into my eyes. He had that look in his eye that seemed to say "dead man." He continued to inspect the rest of the troops. After a while, I couldn't see him in the endless row of frozen soldiers. Some started to start their prayers. Others were cleaning their bayonets or knifes.

The Captain came back from what seemed like a lifetime. He stood in front of a ladder. He then yelled:

"Fix bayonets!"

Chills went down my spine, like a train going down the track. I hesitated for a moment, but I managed to get my bayonet out. For some reason, my hand was shaking uncontrollably. Either from fear, or because it was cold. But I managed to get the bayonet on my Springfield. Men were ending their prayers. Others were taking last looks at pictures of friends, girlfriends, or family.

We stood there in eerie silence. For some reason, it felt kinda of relaxing. But that all ended when the Captain came back. He took one last glance of us before taking his first glance into a peroscope. He grabbed hold onto the ladder, and the order was given. Sergeants and officers from sections of the trench were all yelling the same order.

"Over the top!"


Tell me what you think. Feel free to tell suggestions, comments, or anything else.


:O

<3

heres my story :confused::

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

BOOM?

[Sharpshooter124]

its pretty good :). i like it, but its really short for a short story.

lol, i wrote something with a similar setting... what the heck. here it is :)

my story

This book doesn't have a fancy title, and this book doesn't have a fancy author. I have the information necessary, and a pen and paper. After all, how much does an author really need?

it was December 5, 1776. the heat of the revolutionary war drained the morale of patriots and loyalists alike, inflation was staggering, neighbors were cruel, and the country was in turmoil. but while i was being trained and fighting, i found myself thinking of the country. My home, my family, all that i held dear disappeared. My most prominent regret while in the Continental Army was one of the most surprising to me. I imagined myself gazing through the back window of my carriage as i left, while my wife and two boys waved goodbye. I left at 4:00 in the morning, and seeing through the frost covered windows was nigh impossible. I left my wife alone to manage our small shop, and raise our children, the decision was one of the hardest that I ever had to make.

On my first day formally enrolled in the army, i stood in a line of men who's story seemed eerily similar to mine. regretting leaving their wife and children, still smelling of the baked bread they were sent off with. Nobody was really happy to be there, but we all felt a common duty to our country, and this is what would carry us throughout one of the most difficult wars in history. I quickly came back to reality as the officer in charge continued shouting —what was it?-- a cold shock of fear zapped through my spine as i realized with a start that the officer was yelling my name! this was my first roll call, and i had already made a fool of myself. I squeamishly raised my hand and was awarded with disapproving looks by officers, and fellow countrymen alike. I managed to make it to the mess hall without making much more of a fool of myself. as soon as i sat down, a burly man with muscular arms, a shaved head, and outfitted with an ordinary military uniform seated himself next to me. he said nothing, and started digging into his stew. i took advantage of this opportunity and started looking him over, standard boots, standard jacket, standard everything, really. but then something shiny caught my eye, he had a medal of some sort, and i made it a point to ask him about this when i had the chance. he suddenly looked up at me and said earnestly; “you better not pull a stunt like that again, these military people are strict, you will be set on kitchen duty if you keep acting so ignorantly”. He briskly stood up to leave, and i came out of the stupor produced by what he said long enough to ask his name. “private Wallers” he said, and left to finish his stew elsewhere.

I soon learned the name of our trainer, a german man named Von Stuben. At first i was weary of the man, considering that the german mercenaries [hessians] were the most powerful part of the british fighting force. but we all soon became to know him as a brother. He taught us to use the same technologies that the british had claim to. Like fighting with large knives mounted on the front of the gun called bayonets. We were enlisted for a year, and many men cracked under the pressure of not knowing what was happening to their wife and children, resulting in many training injuries, under suspicious circumstances. bayonet in the leg, gunstock to a shoulder, i heard it all during my months at the training camp.

Around two weeks into my training, we stood at roll call while a military man with excellent posture, and a commanding aura marched by. His uniform had several ribbons, and assorted medals from past achievements. For some reason we all stared at him, nobody knew him, but he was the type of man who instantly gained respect. he suddenly halted in the center of the roll line, turned on his heels, and looked us over. “You did well Von” I noticed that Von had materialized behind the roll call line as he said; “thank you, Mr. Washington, it means a lot to hear that from you.”. Mr. Washington? could this be our famed commander? i thought incredulously. General Washington then addressed us as a whole; “Thank you all for answering the desperate cry from our newly appointed congress. We are in desperate need of assistance and value your support greatly. But i am sorry to say that you will soon be transferred to the front lines in an upcoming battle. this battle will help decide whether we will gain additional forces from the french. As you know, they are already aiding us, but this is a clandestine relationship. The British were the victors of the french&Indian war, the bitterness on France's part has probably given them the initiative to lend us forces in the first place. But they do not want to be embarrassed by another grueling defeat. in consequence, this will be the deciding factor in the revolutionary war.”. He announced this on Christmas day.

For the two weeks after this statement, the barracks were on high alert. Men often glanced at the muskets on the wall, and kept ammunition in their satchel to prevent it from being misplaced. We never took our boots off, even to sleep, because of our fear of setting off at night. Rations were reduced, because nobody had much of an appetite, especially for the disgusting stew. Letters home were doubled, and as the economy became more grim, men had breakdowns worrying about their family. I am ashamed to say that i was almost relieved to set off for battle, for the quiet before the storm, was the most agonizing part of a war.

we trudged through despicable circumstances for hours on end. Our shoes wore through, our rations lowered, and we had to fight just to get to the british. We mixed hair powder with our stew to make it more substantial. Some soldiers drank molasses instead of the rum our officers promised us, unfortunately, this caused crippling diarrhea. As if to make matters even worse, it was in the middle of january, and it was a few degrees at most. Because of our less than adequate circumstances, we only covered five to ten miles a day. we eventually camped near a large hill, and the officers stunned us by telling us that the very british army that we were about to battle, was right over the hill. prayers circulated the camp, pictures of family were placed in boots, bayonets mounted on muskets, and a felling of brotherhood was prominent on everything. longtime enemies made amends, officers addressed their men, and everyone said goodbye. for we knew that many of those around us—including ourselves, might not live see to the next day. The common vote was to stay until the morning, but those in charge eventually convinced us that we may be discovered by then, and lose the element of surprise. which was about the only advantage that we had access to.

The commanding officers soon decided to send a phalanx around the back of the British, and distract them with guerilla tactics on top of the hill. I was assigned to the dangerous position, on top of the mountain. This was also the most difficult place to shoot from, since the musket balls often whizzed over the heads of the british.

Just twenty minutes before my group started shooting, we erected defenses to hide behind, and started gathering ammunition. All the sudden there i was, lying on my stomach with my my gun loaded. the phalanx circling around was ready to go, all the had to happen was one person t-- “BOOM”. and there it was, the first shot was fired, from then on life was a blur...reload, aim, fire, reload, aim, fire, reload, aim , fire. This was all that was going through my mind, not the british i was killing, not my family, not even my own safety. just the cold efficiency of this deadly pattern. smoke filled my vision, i was completely blind to what was around me, but I'm not even sure i noticed, all i knew was; reload, aim, fire, reload, aim, fire, reload, aim, fire. that was all i heard, that was all i saw, that was all i felt. The shooting around me soon stopped, but i kept going; reload, aim, f-- “STOP IT, ITS OVER”. somebody yelled above my shooting, i fired three more shots before the smoke cleared. the British were slain, and the other phalanx was nowhere in sight. I suddenly realized that this small group had defeated the entire British force before the other phalanx had even made it to the british.

After the battle i walked around, Shell shocked, i didn't have much else to do, so i walked to the infirmary. there were a few people injured, one stood out immediately; it was private Walkers. As soon as i saw him i knew his wounds were mortal. “So what is that medal for?” i asked. i had nothing else to ask, my sensed were dimmed, and i didn't have any long drawn out advice. He looked at me dead in the eye and said; “its a mark of shame, i was a general, but i used an inexperienced group of militiamen. We all ran at the sight of the british, and i left the other general to die. I have been demoted to private and i changed my name, i was general Gates. I will surely go down in american history as a coward”.After listening to this statement, i walked home, i started walking an i didn't stop until i reached my family.


LOLLOLOLOL did u get ideas from that story from a movie called "patriot"?

[Timeline]

LOLLOLOLOL did u get ideas from that story from a movie called "patriot"?

nope, never seen it. I bet they based the movie off my short story :p

but really, i just came up with it from historical knowledge n' stuff

[Sharpshooter124]

nope, never seen it. I bet they based the movie off my short story :p

but really, i just came up with it from historical knowledge n' stuff

lol if you say so. ur a great writer ;D