Dawn, April 19, 1775

“Come on, Wallace,” John stated as their small company walked between two houses in Lexington, coming up on the town green, "Alright, alright,” came the nervous reply. Wallace and John were walking amidst their company of less than eighty militiamen. Wallace, with shaking hands, repositioned his grip on his father’s Brown Bess rifle. The sun had just begun to peak up over the horizon, and it was blinking through the trees at the towns edge. Their commander, a man of about forty, shattered the nervous silence with a “Hold!” Wallace looked over the heads of the men standing in front of him and nearly fell over in shock. Positioned at the edge of the town green were what looked to be almost a thousand British soldiers. Wallace turned and patted Johns shoulder. “J-Jo-John, look there,” John’s eyes widened when he realized what they had been searching for. “That many?” John said in disbelief. The company began to walk forward about a hundred yards from the British, both sides were gathered in the town green. A British major could be heard shouting. “Throw down yer arms! Ye villains, ye rebels.” Wallace’s commander turned around quickly, but calmly. “When ye hear a single shot ring, I want ye all to disperse.” Men of the company could be heard muttering and uneasily shifting amongst themselves as they spread into a line. Wallace fumbled with his powder horn as he primed his rifle. John, who was loading his rifle next to Wallace, glanced at him and said surprisingly calmly. “Steady your wits, we will be alright.” John finished loading his rifle and joined others in the line of militiamen, the British easily outnumbered them ten to one. Wallace slid out his ramrod and finished loading, he fully c***ed the rifle and stood next to John, both of them aiming down their sights waiting for the order to fire. Wallace noticed how much his barrel was shaking, and not because of the weight of the rifle. Suddenly, BAM, BAM, BAM, BAM! Wallace jumped and pulled the trigger in a panic, knowing it would go wide. All he could hear was yelling and the sound of musketballs ripping up the air in front and beside him. He could see nothing, the entire field was a smoky haze. As the gunfire continued, he turned left and saw John turn around and sprint towards the buildings they had come from with some others. He began to follow, on his way, he noticed several people groaning on the ground, while others lay ominously still. He was sprinting between buildings, ears ringing, knuckles white and hands glued to his rifle, unwillingly to drop it. With an uneasy stomach he coughed through the smoke. He finally made it to the tree line. He saw most of his company had gathered there and were moving quickly. He scanned the crowd for John. Spotting him, he made his way to him in the middle of the company. Wallace grabbed Johns shoulder whispering loudly. “John, I can't do this, I can't, we need to go, John we need to-” He was cut off as John grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. “Wallace, calm down, we’re not injured, and we need to get to Concord,” he stated confidently. “Why? We don't have a chance in the world against their numbers!” Retorted Wallace. “Have you gone mad? We need to make sure they don't get our arms.” John replied with, frustrated. “Are you in or not?” John finished. Wallace gritted his teeth. “Let's get moving.”

      Afternoon, April 15, 1775

Several hours after the extremely one sided skirmish at Lexington the very same company was coming up on the north side of Concord. As they approached they noticed a bridge guarded by several British companies, British moving from house to house, searching, and small groups of militiamen like themselves as well as a huge group of militiamen on the high ground just outside of the town. John turned to Wallace and said, wide eyed. “Look, there!” As he pointed his finger toward a rising column of smoke. “They must be burning the arms.” Wallace nodded slowly and noticed the militiamen on the high ground waving their arms and shouting. The commander of their company cursed under his breath and turned, saying. “We’re going to take the north bridge, just there.” Pointing to the bridge leading into Concord that the British were stationed on. Several men of the company murmured amongst themselves as they began moving toward the bridge. The company had been spotted by then and the British were aiming down their sights. “Fire!” Screamed a British major. The volley of lead unleashed around them but hit nobody. The commander of their militiamen company shouted in return. “Aim… fire!” The company let loose a volley of their own down the small space of the bridge, dropping what looked to be a dozen and some more. The British major yelled in a panic. “Retreat! Fall back!” The British that now made up the front line stopped reloading and starting backing up off the bridge and into the town. Wallace took notice that the British were retreating into the town square, in a column and had began moving toward in the direction of Boston. By then though, Wallace noted, many, many colonists had descended on the area, surrounding the town. John got Wallace’s attention and said. “You see them there?” Pointing at a company of men. “Those are minutemen, I hear they can be ready in a single minute.” Wallace shaded his eyes as the sun glared down from above, and saw them begin running into town. The commander of Wallace's company took notice and ordered the group to follow suit. “Scatter among the town, shoot the redcoats in the back.” From behind stone walls, sheds, houses, and trees were militiamen ready to fire. Soon shots rang out, and British in the back of the column were being hit and falling, several dropping weapons, gear, and pieces of clothing such as hats and bags to retreat faster. By the time they were out of the town, several had been shot and killed, with even more injured. They kept marching on, though. Wallace ducked behind a stone wall, aimed over it and fired, sending the powder cartridge satchel of a red coat flying into another as his musketball hit it, spraying gunpowder everywhere. Wallace sat behind that cover reloading with shaky hands. He then exited the town and got behind trees with other men. When the redcoats came down the path they all turned from the tree and fired upon them. Most fell but those that didn't panicked and ran, but didn't get very far due to militiamen then charging with sabers. Wallace didn't have one, though. They repeated these ambushes all the way back to Lexington, where a fresh brigade of reinforcements had shown up, however, the colonists continued their assaults. Wallace had met up with John once again at Lexington since mostly every company of militiamen had scattered and been ambushing redcoats with random other militiamen for the past few hours. Wallace was now out of ammo but had been lent a saber for quick hit and run slashing with others on unexpecting redcoats. Recently though, redcoats ahead of them and been sending parties to meet the militiamen and ideally flank them. Usually these parties were routed but sometimes the militiamen were forced to retreat. What made matters worse, the British were wheeling cannons into Lexington and these cannonballs usually hit trees, splintering them and knocking them down, or the dirt and grass in front, beside, or behind colonists. They bravely continued on, though. John had been sprayed with a shower of splinters and was momentarily blinded when a tree in front of him was hit with a cannonball, and it would have fell on him and crushed him had Wallace not pulled him out of the way. John nodded his thanks, speechless.

     Evening, April 15, 1775

Wallace and the militiamen had been following the redcoats for eighteen miles. Through Lexington, Menotomy, and Cambridge. Their company had re-gathered outside of Cambridge when a courier ran up to their commander with word from a fresh contingent of militiamen from Marble and Salem. Saying that they chose not to cut off the redcoats and finish them, much to the commanders dismay, as they may well have finished them entirely, and that now the redcoats had reached Charleston Neck. There they were safe due to naval support. “Nevertheless,” the commander began, “We have shown them a fight and had them on their heels. Good job to every one of you today.” John said. “I told you we could do it.”
Wallace nodded with a grin.