• It was April 19, 1775. Not long ago, the Continental Congress made the decision to draft a declaration . A declaration of independence! I know this only because my father is a part if the congress. I am Alexander Mason of the Lexington militia, age nineteen, 13th son of Richard and Michelle Mason.

    'Twas only minutes before dawn as we seventy minutemen, led by Captain John Parker, laid in wait in the center of our fair town for the army of 700 redcoats who were intent on destroying our fellow Patriots' supplies in Concord. It was eerily quiet in the square, nothing except the soft breathing of my fellow militia men and the hushed breathes of the earth. The minutes seemed to pass by almost painfully slow and I could feel the men around me growing anxious. Then, just as the sun began to rise and mournful church bells rang in the morn, we saw them.

    Their coats, red as blood, seemed to almost flame in the soft dawn light. Shadows had been thrown across their faces and their muskets gleamed, red glow form the men's crimson uniforms making them look coated in blood. I could tell that the sight terrified many of us (though none would admit it.)

    We fired a volley of lead as they came within range and they replied with cruelly accurate gunfire. The battle had only begun yet many of us had been wounded and two of our men already lay dead. I had only a few wounds: a bullet had grazed my cheek, much too close for comfort, and I had musket ball lodged in my left shoulder. 

    "Stand your ground..." called out captain, "If they want a war, let it begin here!"

    The brave command gave us wounded men enough strength to raise our guns, for we would not go without a fight.

    We refused to be shot down like dogs!

    We fought with all our remaining might and fired till we were forced back and had to retreat, the taste of defeat strong and bitter in our tongues. We had lost another six brave men, my older brother William among them. We went back for our dead soon after the British had left, unable to dishonor their brave and now lost souls.

    Even beyond the sorrow I felt in my heavy heart, I was filled with a sense of foreboding. I could sense this was only the first of many battles, the eight that died today only the beginning of lost loved ones and dead brave souls...