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Topic: Blue (10/08/09)
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TITLE: The Indigo Homespun | Previous Challenge Entry
By Lance Pisowicz
10/12/09 -
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As the British began their march up the hill, Colonel Prescott began shouting orders to his troops. "Do not fire until you see the whites of their eyes," he barked at them. Henry knew why the Colonel was so concerned about waiting to fire their weapons at the British forces. The Patriots had been poorly supplied to begin the Revolution and after several months, without additional equipment, these men had begun melting down nails, the steel pipes from organs, and whatever else that was metallic that they could find.
"Dear God, please help my fellow soldiers and myself in this battle if it be your will," prayed Henry. "I know that you will be with us as you always have been. You know that we have a worthy cause in this war. For all we want is freedom and liberty. In Your name I pray, Amen."
"Boy will you not take your position until the Redcoats take you prisoner?" barked one of the commanders at Henry.
"My sincerest apologies, Sir." replied Henry. "I was simply..."
"You mustn't' waste time with excuses, lad," replied the commander. "It is crucial that you go to your post immediately."
Without another word, Henry dashed up the steep hill, with his indigo uniform flapping in the wind behind him. As he continued toward his band of comrades. stray branch that was poking out of the ground caught Henry's coat and slit an obnoxious gash into the fabric. The coat's threads began to unravel and Henry tried to ignore the horrid tear in his garment. The British initiated their pursuit of the colonists up the hillside. As Henry prepared his musket for battle, he couldn't help but contemplate how much his military coat meant to him. His mother wove and dyed it before Henry had left over a month ago to enlist with his father in the militia, and he had developed a fondness for that coat. Many British troops and Loyalists condemned the uniforms of being distasteful and unofficial, but many Patriot men loved their uniforms because it reminded them of home. Henry tried to control his emotions, for in this time, a man who cried was considered fragile and pathetic. Inside, however, Henry's heart was torn to pieces. Although not having a coat to protect him from the elements would be a quandary in the frigid winter months, Henry was saddened the most by losing the one item he had left from home. The first shot had just been fired and Henry eyed the British troops marching toward his post.
The battle raged on for over two hours. All of the British troops who had not been injured or killed continued their way up the hill toward Henry and his comrades. As the Redcoats advanced Henry repeatedly prayed, "Lord please help me," in his head. The first British soldiers were now within 300 feet of Henry and his fellow troops. The Patriots prepared their muskets to fire. At that moment, someone from the British side hollered, "Retreat!" Without another shot from either group, the Redcoats scurried down the hill. Henry and his comrades had been spared. They would not have to fire their muskets at their enemies or be shot at themselves. The horror of the battle had ended.
"Thank you Lord Jesus," Henry praised God. "I know that without You, I am nothing, and with you we can do all things with Your strength."
"Excellent work, gentlemen," bellowed Colonel Prescott. I'll make sure that everyone's wounds are cared for and I'll make sure, Henry, that you have a new coat before the next battle. Hopefully it will be a while before then."
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