Letters of Wartime

DEAR EDWARD,

I have just been brought ill tidings of a, shall we say, slip of the tongue in the heat of the moment. Come now, boy, surely your intellect is of a higher grade than that. Dear son, must you persist in this wrongdoing? Think of me, your father, for one moment, boy. My reputation is at stake, being you align yourselves with rebel-rousers. It has almost reached the point that I am no longer welcome here in England. Edward, please, reconsider, if not for you, do it for me.

Bless you, my dear boy,

Your father,

Armitage Bennett.

DEAR FATHER,

As much as I hold you closer than any to me, I cannot reconsider my current course of action. I have come to love America to the extent that it exceeds my love for England. I see the Crown’s oppression of this beloved country first hand and it goes against my very being to stand idly by as their rights are being usurped and trampled.

By the time your letter reached me I had already enlisted in the Continental Army and been deployed to Bunker Hill. Father, I have never been in the grip of such pure fear as during the battle for the hill.

Right before the battle, in the evening of 16 June, I was transferred to Breed’s Hill, a hill not far away from Bunker Hill. The next morning, I looked out from our meager fortifications and saw lines of Redcoats marching up from Boston. We hastily prepared for the upcoming conflict. We had very little shot and powder, so, one of the officers told to withhold our fire until the white of our enemy’s eyes could be perceived. When they came within range of our muskets, we opened fire. I myself am sickened at the thought of human lives ended with the first volley. I put my rifle butt on the ground and hastily reloaded, and, just as fast, discharged it, laying to rest another of His Majesty’s troops.

But, our volleys were not left without return fire. As I crouched, reloading my musket, bullets never ceased to whiz by my ears. The two men on either side of me fell, whether they were dead or wounded, I did not find out.

They retreated not long after that, feeling, I assume, the need to regroup before another attack. They came a second time and again we repelled them. By this time my bag of shot was empty and my powder horn was not far behind. So, carrying the wounded, we gave up the hill, with much loss on both sides.

Father, I am glad I survived this bloody episode, but I know it will be repeated soon. Keep praying for me, father, God knows I need it.

With much love,

your son Edward.

MY DEAR EDWARD,

As much as I adore England, I am coming to America, for I have overstayed my welcome in the Mother Country. Do not think for a moment I blame you, I don’t. A sign of maturity is when a man stands up for his beliefs, even in the face of adversity. Well, son, there is not much I need to say in this letter, for I shall see you soon. With all your words of praise for America, it has allured me and I must say I am excited to journey there.

God bless you, Edward,

Your father, Armitage Bennett.