Chapter 6

Dear Ben,

Another birthday, come and gone. I am fourteen years old now. Rose says that soon I will be pinning my hair up and batting my eyelashes at every boy who walks by. I think I'd rather kiss David. Speaking of which, I have tried to make friends with him, but oh Ben, he is so conceited! He is lazy too. Father is becoming a bit agitated with him, but he keeps saying to give him a second chance. I wish it were him who were risking his life and you who were here with us. I'm sorry, that was not very nice to say. But tis true.

Now that I am older, I find myself being invited to more and more balls. I will be frank; they are boring. I enjoy a pretty new dress every now and then (though this happens less and less now) and dressing up and dancing, but I find myself a wallflower most of the time. All of the handsome young men are snatched up by the older girls. Not that I really care; it would just be nice to have a partner for once.

In the meantime, I am so sick of British soldiers around town! There have been no battles or little skirmishes, thank God, but tis unnerving to see them.

I don't know if you have heard or not, but the new governor of Virginia, Thomas Jefferson, is debating moving the capital from Williamsburg to Richmond. I don't know how I feel about this; I've lived in Williamsburg all my life, and it has always been Virginia's capital. However, if moving it to Richmond protects us from attacks, then I suppose it is the right thing to do.

I know I say this all the time, but do be careful, Ben. We don't want to lose you.

-Felicity

It was August of 1779. Ben's brief time at home ended quickly, and BAM! army life picked up right where it had left off. But that had been a full eight months ago. Now, as Felicity's letter had already said, Thomas Jefferson had become the governor of Virginia and had decided to move the capital to Richmond, but who knew when that would go into effect? Currently, the British controlled most of Georgia and had recently captured Charles Town, South Carolina. This was where Ben was, in the hot, humid swamps of South Carolina. Under Francis Marion ("Swamp Fox", as he was sometimes called) they learned a new way of fighting, called guerrilla attacks. This was where they hid and then would jump out and surprise the enemy. It seemed to work surprisingly well. The weather was hot and humid, and the mosquitoes here made the ones in Virginia seem like gnats. Hot weather really was the worst. It made everybody especially irritable, even happy-go-lucky Matthew. He had not really been himself, however, since about April. He seemed troubled, more so than a normal soldier. No one could figure out what was bugging him, though. Whenever he was asked, he just turned on his grin and said that, "nothing was wrong; he was alive, and that's all that mattered." So the rest of them shrugged it off and stopped prodding.

Meanwhile, Ben was dealing with his own troubles. His morale was fading, and he was starting to feel as though this war would never end. Daniel, he learned, felt similar. This came up one night as the two were hopelessly trying to fall asleep. "Another battle tomorrow," said Daniel. Ben just nodded. "You scared?" Daniel asked.

"I always am, a little," Ben answered. "Every time, there is that possibility of death."

"It happens to many every time," said Daniel. "Why should that make us any different?"

"Exactly."

They were silent. Then Ben added, "I'm honestly getting sick of all of this fighting. I'm tired of fearing for my life and ending others'." Daniel smiled sadly. "That's war," he said. "Tis the life of a soldier, so I've learned over the past nearly two years."

Ben whistled. "Has it only been two years? It feels like twenty."

"Aye," Daniel agreed. "God knows how much longer it will last. I guess all we can do is fight our hardest and stay as strong as we can." Ben just sighed.

The Carolina sun beat down on them as they stiffly marched off to battle. Ben could feel his spirits sink with every step. He didn't know why he felt so down; maybe it was just the war getting to him. But now was not the time to wallow in self misery. All too soon, the blast of British cannons were heard. Before the British were even in sight, everyone loaded his rifle as quickly as he possibly could. Ben glanced over at Daniel, whose eyes were wide and alert. He remembered what he had said about being strong. Lord knew he was trying. A minute later, a gun was heard, then another, and another. As usual, everyone slammed to the ground. The familiar line of redcoats loomed in front of them. They set off cannons, killing anyone who tried to get up and fight them. A few men inched their way up to their feet and immediately made their way to their own cannons, which were fired as quickly as possible. Meanwhile, the rest tried to fire their own guns from the ground. Jacob didn't leave Ben's side. He was so scared that he was practically on top of him. "Oh God," he whispered. "Why did I ever sign up for this?"

"Miserable, isn't it?" said Ben. "Ugh, I'm so hot that even my back is sweaty!" Jacob bit his lip. "Um-I hate to tell you this," he said sheepishly. "But that's not sweat." Ben's eyes widened when he realized what it was, and then closed. "Jacob," he said calmly. "If we ever get out of this alive... I'm going to kill you!" "I'm sorry!" exclaimed Jacob. "I've got a small bladder anyway, and it doesn't do well when I'm scared."

"I ought to put you in a diaper," snapped Ben. "Now quit wetting yourself and me! and get on your feet!"

The battle continued into the afternoon. The heat only made it ten times worse. Once, Ben got too close and was nearly wiped out by a British cannonball. Luckily, he was just the right distance away from it, but it nearly gave him a heart attack. He didn't completely escape unscathed, either. His left ear had taken a pretty bad blow from it. Not on the outside, but the sound had been so loud that he had grabbed his ear in pain when it bounced off his eardrum. He really panicked when he realized that he couldn't hear out of it. "Did-did that just leave me deaf?" he thought. He was relieved a minute later when his hearing started to come back, yet the whole incident had shaken him up and made him jumpier than usual. He tried to take careful aim, but this time, for some reason, his heart was beating faster than a hummingbird's wings out of sheer terror. Dozens of men fell dead. Cannons destroyed limbs. Ben looked over at Luke, who kept a grim and serious countenance. He looked at Matthew, whose face was sweaty and looked scared but trying not to show it. He looked at Jacob, who was literally shaking as he took aim and fired. He heard gunshots and cries of the wounded. He saw Peter Zimmerman, the soldier who always distributed their mail and who had been a good friend to everyone, stumble over as he was shot in the stomach. He trembled for a moment, then was still. This was the last straw. Ben couldn't take it anymore. Though he knew the serious consequences, and that the act was the most cowardly thing one could do, he glanced around, then, making sure no one saw him, slipped away from the battlefield and into the nearby swampy forest.

He ran until he was sure he was far enough away, then slowed down to a cautious walk. He walked backwards to make sure that no one had seen him run away. He had seen the consequences, and he did not want to be caught and branded as a coward. What would his friends say? What would his parents say? What would Mr. Merriman say? "Should have thought of that before you ran away," said his conscience. He ignored it. He turned back around, and what he saw was more frightening than a whole tribe of Indians. His heart leapt into his throat. His stomach dropped to his feet. He blinked. Standing right in front of him was a British soldier, gun pointed straight at him. A small gasp escaped his lips. His first instinct was to point his own gun back, then he realized it wasn't loaded. "God damn it!" he thought. He cringed, waiting for the bullet to pierce some vital organ. It didn't come. He opened his eyes, and the soldier was frantically trying to load his rifle. This bought Ben some time. Faster than he had ever done before, he tried to load his own rifle before the other soldier did. He dropped the bullet. "No, not now," he pleaded. "Please, not now!"

The other man tried to pour in the gunpowder, but it went spilling everywhere. The two frantically tried to recover their missing ammunition when finally the man said, "I think you and I should probably sit down and have a talk, rebel." Ben nodded quickly. Both slowly sat down, not taking their eyes off each other. Finally, Ben asked, "How-how did you know I wasn't loaded?"

"I figured that if you were, you would have killed me on the spot," said the soldier. "I would have done the same to you, had I been loaded."

"Well, then I guess we both just got lucky," said Ben.

"What are you doing back here?" asked the man. "You were running away, weren't you?" Ben looked away, ashamed. "Don't feel bad," said the man. "So was I. The whole thing just got to be too much for me."

"Me too," Ben agreed. "But now I feel guilty." The soldier nodded. "How do you think we're going to get out of this?" he asked. Ben thought, then said, "Well, we could just stay out of sight until the battle is over, then one of us goes as the other's prisoner." The soldier narrowed his eyes. "And which one of us would that be?"

"Whichever side wins the battle," said Ben. "Fair?" He held out his hand. The soldier paused, then shook it. "Fair," he agreed.

"Good," said Ben. Suddenly famished, he reached into the pouch at his waist and pulled out some hardtack. It was as hard as rock, but food was food. The soldier must have thought the same because he looked at it longingly, then looked away. Ben hesitated, then slowly offered him some. The man looked at him cautiously. "What, do you think I poisoned it or something?" Ben asked.

"Well," said the soldier. "We are on opposite sides. Ever heard that we're supposed to hate each other?"

"Ever heard of southern hospitality?" Ben retorted. The soldier smiled and accepted the hardtack. "I'm much obliged," he said. Both ate in silence. Then he asked, "Where are you from, rebel?"

"Virginia," Ben answered. "Yorktown. You?"

"Liverpool," the soldier answered. Ben said nothing, then asked, "Why are you here, lobster back ?

The man frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Why are you here?" Ben repeated. "Why can't you just let us have our independence and go back to England where you belong? Are the colonies really that important to you?"

The man laughed unkindly. "You think I want to be here?" he asked. "Boy, I've got a wife and three children back home who I would much rather be with right now than here with you. If it were up to me, I'd say to just give you rebels your damn independence; then we'll see if you can make it as a country or not. I don't see the point in fighting just to insure that your taxes will still go to us."

Ben was a bit taken aback. "Well, if you think we should just have our independence and move on, then why are you fighting to make sure that we don't get it?"

"Money," answered the soldier. "I've got nothing else left and need to feed my family. Tis not bad pay, so I figured that I had nothing else to lose." Ben was quiet. That would be awful if the only way to make an income was to risk your life on the battlefield, especially for a cause that you couldn't care less about. "It's only for the money?" Ben asked softly.

"Everything is about money," said the man. "This whole war is about money. Life is about money."

Ben was quiet again.

"Well," the soldier now said, lying down. "Might as well get some sleep as long as we're here." Ben nodded and lay down. As he started to drift off to sleep, the man asked, "What's your name, rebel?"

Ben opened his eyes. "Ben Davidson," he answered. "Yours?"

"Jack Hale," said the man, holding out his hand. Ben smiled, then rolled over and shook it.

He awoke a few hours later to the sound of marching in the distance. He stood up and got closer to investigate. Through the trees, he could make out a troop-his troop- marching back towards camp. He heard drumbeats and flutes, and singing. The flag was raised. They had won. Ben grinned and went back to Jack, who was still sound asleep. He nudged him with his rifle. Jack woke up, and his eyes grew big when he saw the gun pointed at him. He glared at Ben. "I should have known," he sneered. "I should have known not to trust an uncivilized Virginian rebel." Ben frowned. "What do you mean, redcoat?" he asked.

"You've got that thing pointed straight at me!" said Jack. "You loaded that thing while I was sleeping and now are going to kill me!"

Ben just stared at him, then pointed his rifle up and cocked the hammer. Nothing happened. "I may be an uncivilized Virginian rebel," he said. "But I am a man of my word."

Jack looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry," he said. "I've learned to trust no one."

"That's all right," said Ben, helping him up. "I would have done the same thing. Now come on. You're my prisoner."

Jack frowned. "It's over?" he asked. "And what makes you so sure you won?"

"I saw my troop marching," said Ben. "If a raised flag and cheers of triumph doesn't mean victory, then I don't know what does."

Jack rolled his eyes, but held up his hands in surrender. "Very well," he said. "I surrender to you."

"Good," said Ben. Then, like a sergeant, he added, "Now march! Left! Right! Left! Right!"

Ben felt pretty pleased with himself. He had not only avoided being caught for running away, but he also picked up a prisoner of war. This impressed not only his friends, but the officers as well. True, he had to tell a couple of little white lies to avoid questioning such as why was he in the woods in the first place, but they bought it and let him off the hook. This raised his spirits significantly.

Over the next couple of months, more and more battles were won, making everyone excited. "We could win this!" they started to say, and more importantly, started to believe. They marched with a spring in their step. More supplies came. Occasionally, someone would get an idea to find an old house or barn and have a dance. They'd find some musicians and girls in the area and dance the night away. Overall, life improved. Battles were not so frightening anymore, for now they were more like little skirmishes, and they usually won them. Food became more abundant. More medicine was obtained. No one had a care in the world, and when Ben's twentieth birthday came, he could not think of a more carefree place to be, nor a better attitude to have.

His good morale didn't last, though. It was a bitterly cold winter, and food became scarce again. The carefree spirit that had brightened them a few months ago was now gone. The war was slipping back into British control. They were cold. They were hungry. And in February, something happened that completely killed any happiness Ben had left.

It was a cold night. It was snowy and windy and all around miserable. Ben was pretty sure his fingers were frostbitten. "Anyone want hot coffee?" asked John. "It's not very good, but it'll warm you up."

"I'll take some," said Luke.

"Me too," Ben agreed.

"Make that three," chimed in Daniel.

"Matthew?" asked John. "Do you want some?"

Matthew smiled weakly. "No thank you," he said.

"I'll take some," said Jacob. John poured him some, and he looked at it with disgust. "Now what's wrong?" asked Ben.

"It's green," said Jacob a little weakly.

"It's not completely green," Daniel offered.

"Well, you'd better drink it," said Luke. "It's all we've got."

While Jacob choked down the thick coffee, Ben noticed that Matthew looked ill. "Are you all right?" he asked. Matthew smiled weakly. "Fit as a fiddle," he assured them. "Just a little tired."

"You should rest," said John. "It's been a long day."

"We all should," suggested Luke. "Everyone else is."

Ben lay down on the thin blanket that was his only protection against the snowy ground. He turned on his side, listening to John's heavy snoring. "I wonder how Grace puts up with that," he thought, drifting into a restless sleep.

The wake-up drumbeats came far too soon. Ben arose groggily with a stiff neck. "Perfect," he thought. Jacob slept on. "How did he get in the army?" asked Daniel. Ben shrugged, thus hurting his neck. "That just shows you how desperate they are for soldiers," he said. "That's why I've stuck around."

"Could you imagine if everyone enlisted for just one year?" said Luke. "We'd never win this war!" They all glanced at Jacob, who had murmured something about being full. "I'll take care of him," Daniel offered. He blew his signal whistle loud and shrill in his ear. This did the job. "What was that for?" asked Jacob sleepily.

"You've got to get up," said Luke. "We have to fight again."

Jacob rolled over. "But I don't want to," he whined.

"Too bad," said Ben sternly. "None of us do."

"By the way," said Daniel. "Has anyone seen Matthew?"

"He's in the hospital," said John, coming over to them. Everyone gasped. "The hospital?" asked Daniel. "Why?"

"He contracted small pox during the night," said John.

"Oh God," murmured Luke. A huge small pox epidemic had been spreading lately, and now it had found them. "He's very contagious," John went on. "It'd be best not to see him."

They paid John's warning no heed. A few days later, after having to retreat from the British, Ben and Daniel sneaked into the makeshift hospital tent. "Where's Matthew?" Daniel asked. Ben shrugged, then spotted the doctor. "Let's ask him," he suggested. They asked him, and he pointed to the cot in the corner. Matthew appeared to be sleeping. "Matthew?" said Ben softly. He didn't stir. "Matthew?" he tried again, shaking him. "Matthew! Wake up! Oh God, please wake up, Matthew!" Matthews eyes opened slowly, and he grinned. "Evenin', Ben," he said hoarsely. Ben frowned. "That's not funny," he said. "We thought you were dead."

"Not yet," said Matthew.

"How do you feel?" asked Daniel gently.

"I've been better," he answered nonchalantly. Ben felt his forehead. "God, are you hot," he remarked, brushing a stray hair out of Matthew's face. "You don't look too well either."

"Neither do you two," Matthew shot back with an impish grin. "If I were a girl who came across you, I'd run for the hills." Ben and Daniel both rolled their eyes. "Bet Rebecca would do the same if she saw you now," teased Daniel. Matthew smiled and leaned back. "I can't wait to get well," he said. "Then I can go home and marry her. Finally, after all these years."

Ben smiled. "You do that," he said. "As long as you invite us to your wedding."

"Then we will be able to say,'we remember when...'," added Daniel. Matthew grinned again. "Who said anything about a wedding?" he asked. "I was just going to kidnap her in the middle of the night and elope." Ben just smiled and shook his head. Even miserable and ill with small pox, Matthew still had that sense of humor.

Over the next two days, Matthew took a turn for the worst. One day, John said, "I don't think he has much longer. If you want to see him again, go now."

Daniel couldn't; it would make him too upset. And Jacob couldn't stomach the sight of death. So that left Ben and Luke. Matthew was as white as a ghost when they got to him. "Matthew?" said Luke gently. "It's Luke." Matthew's eyes fluttered open. "Luke?" he asked.

"Aye," said Luke. "And Ben." Matthew's face looked pained. "Luke," he whispered. "Tell-tell Becky I feel poorly."

"I'll do that, Matthew," said Luke softly.

"Tell her-tell her that I love her," Matthew went on so quietly that Ben had to strain to hear (that cannon blast had, in fact, made him partially deaf in his left ear). "Tell her I love her and-and the baby." Ben and Luke glanced at each other. "Did he just say 'baby'?" asked Ben. Luke nodded gravely. "He did,"

he said. He turned back to Matthew. "What baby?" he asked a little shakily.

"Our baby," Matthew rasped. "She became pregnant the last time I was home and gave birth in September."

"Oh God," thought Ben. That must have been why Matthew had been acting funny since April! He received word that Rebecca was carrying his child out of wedlock! Luke smiled sadly. "We'll do that." Matthew turned to Ben. "Take care of Jacob," he said. "He needs you."

"I will," Ben promised.

"And promise me you'll-you'll," Matthew whispered.

"What?" asked Ben softly.

"Promise you'll name your first son after me," said Matthew hoarsely. Ben grasped his hand in his own. "I'll do that, Matthew," he promised. Matthew just smiled and closed his eyes.

He went home, but he never got to marry Rebecca. That night, with a sweet smile on his face, Matthew Holloway left the army hospital for his eternal home in Heaven. A solemness hung in the air the next morning. "And they had a baby," Ben thought miserably. Never would Matthew see an end to this terrible war. Never would he embrace Rebecca as his bride. Never would he see the child he had brought into the world grow up. Ben felt tears well in his eyes. He tried to brush them away, but it was no use. And so, for the first time in years, he buried his head in his knees and cried.

Dear Felicity,

I pray that you are better than we are. Matthew died last night of small pox. Even worse, he left his sweetheart Rebecca with a newborn child. War is a tragic thing, Lissie. However, Luke says he will marry Rebecca when the war ends if she isn't already. He will take Matthew's place, though he has never met her. I find this rather admirable.

We are cold here, and hungry. Everyone feels miserable, and we lose more men every day from both battle and disease. I'm starting to think, "what was I thinking?" back when I was fifteen. Speaking of which, by the time you get this, you will be fifteen, won't you? In regards to that, happy birthday. I hope I can be with you for your sixteenth next year.

Be good, and say hello to everybody.

-Ben