Personal Narrative: My Quest Of Independence

I am hot, dog-tired and starving. It is also my birthday but at this point its irrelevant. The last couple of days have been some of the best and worst of my life. Following the original meeting with the British patrons at Concord made me scared of the days to come. I pray for the strength as I fight for what I believe in. I initially came to this new world in pursuit of a better life for my children, and my wife. We have placed entitlement to a pleasant ranch outside of Boston and have appreciated our passive life working our property and appreciating our freedoms. Lately I have felt that those liberties have been stripped away gradually. Once a upon a time a while back I can recall a period of peacetime and happiness, now that King George …show more content…
Weeks ago, we were cautioned of the hazard to our militia supplies and had to move them to another place with the imminent threat of British soldiers from seizing our weaponries in our effort to fight against the oppression of the Crown. My family supports my choice and have uncertainties about what could happen. I would gratefully give my life for the cause in the quest of independence which we have long pursued to accomplish. We have banded together as we were advised of the forthcoming attack of our households the threat of British marching through our streets was upon us and time to act was forthcoming as no longer was it time to petition and reason but time for action to fight was what we believed in. I hope that if this is the last of my admissions my children will comprehend the principles and beliefs that I fought for and that I put all on the line so that they may have a better future. As a part of the Massachusetts bay militia one of my obligations is to make sure we are protected. Last night me and Col. James Barrett received word of British plans to hunt and siege our …show more content…
As I think back to the night previously prepping for the next day. I loaded my musket, prepared paper patching, filled my powder horn, and double checked my satchel of lead to guarantee I was ready for what I in front of me coming up. I recollect hearing the opening shots across the morning horizon as you could overhear CPT John Parker and his group of militia begin the initial engagement as the sun peaked in the distance over the bay. The morning strained on many of the militia members including John retreated to our location in the effort to reform in preparation of the British troops coming our way with orders from LTC Francis Smith to loot our homes in search of our supply of weaponries. As late morning ascended the first British soldiers peaked on the tree line just diagonally of the river proceeding to the Old North Bridge about a half mile from my farm. As I ducked behind a collapsed tree waiting to see the marching troops waiting for the distance to close to better guarantee my shots were perfect. As I could overhear the steeps as the snapping brushwood and crunch of the gravel under the boots of the red coats made their way