The American Revolution marked the history of many heroic events that immaculately stand as true inspirations for the generations to come in the United States. Even today, the gallantry of a few soldiers that won independence for the country is not only kept in the hearts of the people but run in the American blood to demonstrate acts of valor at times of war and hardships. One such story recorded in the history dates back to 1776, about a sixteen-year old juvenile, Joseph Plumb Martin, joined the Rebel Infantry and recorded his tribulations about forty-seven years in a memoir titled as “A Narrative of a Revolutionary Soldier”. The book mainly focuses on the sufferings through the tough situation he went through.
A Narrative of a Revolutionary Soldier, Some of the Adventures, Dangers, Sufferings by Joseph Plumb Martin, is a collection of tales starting from when he was just a young boy at the age of seven and quickly goes through his childhood on the farm with his grandparents on his mother's side. Mr. Martin describes his memories from a much later stage in his life at the age of 70 in the year 1830. This is the tales of the crippling weather conditions, terrible living conditions and war stories told by a young enlisted soldier during the war. Mr. Martin was born to a preacher and his wife in 1760 in western Massachusetts. The story begins when he was just a young boy who was sent to live with his grandparents on a farm.
George Washington, the first president of the United States and commander of the Continental Army during the American Revolution, remains as one of the most famous and influential figures in the American history. Despite him having little experience in commanding large military forces, Washington’s strong leadership and determination helped him to unite the American Army during the American Revolution to attain victory at the Yorktown and U.S. independence (Leckie, 2010). One of the strengths that led Washington to match successfully against the mighty British Army is that he had gained wealthy knowledge on British command principles through studying of various British army manuals, and his close interaction with the British officers whom
The man woke calmly, just like any other ordinary morning, he got up out of his soft bed and looked at the other side. It was empty, it seemed his wife had gone shopping, the man turned and stumbled out of the room into the cozy living room. The fireplace was lit and kept the room bright and warm. The man continued walking through and into the kitchen, the benches were clean and ordered. He opened the freezer, got out two slices of bread and put them into the toaster.
Entering the once lonely house, there was a family rejoicing with a long-gone relative. As striking as the first rose in spring, her silky, soft, shiny hair combined with her enticingly exquisite eyes: producing a sublime look. Her upturned nose, oval face and elegant cheeks exhilarated hope within anyone in sight; she filled a void that could only be filled by her. Instantly ejecting any ridicule of the family, her presence made the household regain its original nobility. Spiralling into circle after circle on the indigo walls, like an optical illusion, numerous twirling lines were being contained in a plethora of thin liable cracks; suggesting, this house is enriched in Pangaea-old traditions.
First Entry: Sitting in the same eerie darkness as my comrades, I lifted my head once to see the dark outlines of their faces. Each face was hardened and darkened by the interminable warfare that each of them had struggled through. Medals, titles, they had earned them all. But what did it do? What does a title mean through the course of a raging war, where men leave their families every day, going off to a faraway land where they will never return?
Loud noises seemed to scare me, I have no idea why but screeching tires, Revving engines, screaming children, and even the occasional barking dog will get me on edge and paranoid. In my younger years I joined the US Air Force as a way to get away from everyday life, I just wanted to get out of the everyday monotony of work, sleep, wake, repeat. The only thing that brought me any kind of variety was my sweetheart back home, Hazel. We met in high school when I was just 17 years of age, somehow we are still together today through the night terrors and struggles I constantly suffer.
I shrugged, half not knowing, half- shivering from the frigid winds blowing. When I was put on the truck this morning, the soldiers made me leave the blanket behind. All of sudden, four soldiers had marched into the small, wood structure where we sat on the dirt. Sergeant Jansen was one of them, but as soon as he saw me, he looked down and turned back around. He had looked into my eyes this time, and his eyes were very soft.
I was a coward who spent most of my time in a dark cave reminiscing on my failure as a friend. As dark as the cave was, so was my mind. There were so many things I was afraid to shine a light on, but one needed to be remembered. There was this man I liked so much that I couldn't help waving his thoughts out of my mind. Kevin Bigger, dark, tall, and agile with a rectangular face structure; he was ready to serve.
The 6:00 am alarm rings. I do not budge. 10 minutes pass. 15 minutes pass. 30 minutes pass.
Fall Hike in October I’m running out of my house, slamming the door behind me and shouting, “I’m free!” at the top of my air-filled pink lungs. I get a few weird looks from the neighbors that are outside and a few from even the one’s inside but they’re used to my usual crazy outbursts. I don’t know if I should be worried by that or not.
Screams of rage filled the air as I ran down with the men. My neck was sweaty already from the sun beating down on the armor that was there to protect me. The sun created a shine from all the men around me dressed in thick silver armor. Their swords or bow and arrows were pointed ahead of them, ready to kill. As the first wave opponent hit, blood splattered all over the clean sand, making it turn crimson and camouflage with the red liquid that spilled on it.
From the moment I was born I was considered a military brat, I was born in Hawaii at tripler hospital because my mom was in the army and stationed there, my biological father was in the marines. When my mom remarried when I was 7, she married a man who was in the Navy. Everyone thinks being a Military brat just means you know more than other people because you 've been more places and seen more things and you get a lot of stuff you want. This is not true at all. Coming from a military background means you never have stability, you are held to a higher standard than all the other kids, and sometimes it makes you want to be in the military and only focus on that.
Life in the war front is completely different than what I had imagined. As a Nursing Sister, or Bluebird, my job never ends, which makes writing in this journal extremely difficult. So many men come in with disgusting wounds, I feel sick just thinking about it even though I have nursing experience back home. I only joined the Royal Canadian Army Medical Corps because father decided to join the war front himself. I understand that as a militant who has aided in previous military acts would feel responsible to join the war but, he also has responsibilities at home.
The Yankees formed us up into a wagon train, planning to take us to City Point. On the way there, I thought about the Union prisons, which is where I was headed. I read from the newspapers that the prisons were filled to their limits with soldiers and most soldiers didn’t even live because they froze to death, had chills and fevers (which killed them), or they starved to death because of the terrible food. I hope what I read was not true because Ma, Sarah and Sam really needed me alive, not dead. To take my mind off of everything that had happened, I started to read my book of psalms out loud.