Wayland Middle School's Literary Magazine

Reminiscing by Michael Wightman

Written By: Rachel Barker - Jun• 19•18


I took my rifle off the bracket where it was on the wall. I grabbed a cloth and started to polish it. There were many layers of dust, so much that every time I exhaled, a plume of dust flew off the rifle. That rifle brought back many memories.

I got drafted for the militia at age 16. That is 20 years ago! It is hard to be in the militia. We train a lot, and we need to be always ready to fight. A little while ago I got the code from someone farther down the road that the Redcoats were coming.

Once I heard that they were coming, I found a spot behind a rock and sat there for a while. It was really boring. Another soldier, hiding farther up the road, gave me the code that the British were REALLY close. I saw the metallic buttons on their red coats shining with the midday sun as I thought about my family and my little brother Sean. He is probably enjoying some porridge and playing with the other kids in the neighborhood. Thinking about him, sent an extra wave of strength coursing through my muscles. I won’t let the British succeed!

Three of our men started inching their way around the rock hoping to get a clear shot of the British. But instead the British got a clear shot at them, because our 6 man team quickly became 3.  Still crouching behind the rock, Private Douse had his hands wrapped around his knees, shaking. I guessed he has not experienced seeing death before, because his eyes were not blinking and it started to look like he was in a coma. My friend, Mason. (Or as my colleague, Private Mason Willis) crawled out from behind me, scaring me a little

“Well Andrew, as much as I want to leave and go back to the safety of my house, I will get killed and I don’t particularly want to die. I think it is a miracle that the redcoats have not marched back behind this rock yet, but as long as I am here, I may as well make myself useful. How can I help?”

“Well you can give me cover.” I responded as I peered over the rock, aiming the barrel of my gun at the boot buckled bunch of Redcoats. I started picking them off one by one. I found that shooting their allies made them angry and the rock started shaking from bullets again. Willis did provide me cover, he threw a pebble and said

“Who goes there.” The plan was good, but it would be better if the pebble did NOT go in the direction I was planning on running. But plans change. I quickly darted in the opposite direction of the pebble and hid behind a different rock. The last rock was stable, this one… not so much. I went rolling down the hill alongside the rock. The good thing is that the rock was good at making Redcoat pancakes. The bad thing is that I’m afraid it could be good at making Specialist Clements pancakes too.

“AHHHHH!!!!!” I screamed. I felt a bullet pierce the flesh of my left leg. The rock and I went rolling into a ditch, and my vision went dark.“Oww,” I said meekly. Willis was next to me helping me up. . I felt like I was underwater. While fading in and out of reality I could make out some of what Willis was saying. “… knock out many redcoats… bullet… left leg.”  It took all of my strength to sit up and look down. What I saw was not pleasant, there was a giant bandage wrapped around my leg, it was sopping wet with blood.

“How are you holding up?”Private Willis asked.

“Well I am not dead,” I replied. He gave me two boards to use as crutches and walked me back into town.

“This could make a great story one day” he said as we walked into the distance.

I looked into the rifle, it was so shiny from the polishing that I could see my reflection. I took a deep and hung the rifle back on the bracket. Even though there were tough times during the time I was at the army. I enjoyed those new friendships made from being in the army and the profound adventure!


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