“We’re alone. The Redcoats captured Papa yesterday. I find myself filled with a mixture of emotions. Fear that something might happen to him, to us. Relief that Papa wasn’t one of the many men from town killed when the Redcoats stormed the green in force. Shame that I can find some joy in the situation when so many homes are filled with nothing but grief. 

     While I begrudge the British Soldiers who self-righteously violated our home as though we were nothing more than cattle, I can’t help but feel for the many wives, mothers, and children awaiting their men’s return in England who will never get to say goodbye to their soldiers killed these past two days. War, no matter how righteous the cause, is an ugly unforgiving thing.

     One thing is sure, this war has only begun. Men have been pouring into Lexington from all over on their way to Boston. An army of patriot peasants shaking off their bonds of slavery has laid siege to the Redcoat garrison there. I can feel the distant rumble of cannons even now, the storm of freedom has awakened, and while fear of its great cost lingers, it does little to temper the excitement of what new world may be born on the other side.

     Benjamin heard that Papa is being held on the prison ship in Boston harbor. The Smith’s have graciously offered to let us stay with them until other arrangements can be made, but Papa is all we have left. Benjamin proposed going after Papa himself, it was all I could do to talk him out of it. So it’s settled, we will all go and fetch Papa back. At dusk we’ll slip out of the house and set off to Boston.”

     Mercy Young, 12-years-old.