Historical novels I’ve enjoyed and recommend:
From Sea to Shining Sea, James Alexander Thom
Bridal Journey, Dale Van Every
Redcoat, Bernard Cornwell
Shadow Patriots, Lucia St. Clair Robson
The Whiskey Rebels, David Liss
The Frontiersmen, Allan Eckert
The Traitor, Dan Sherman
Johnny One-Eye, Jerome Charyn
One bitter night when the stars winked bright
and the wind like wolves did howl,
I stood on watch in the lonely woods
where spirits were said to prowl.
As tall trees bent their limbs like arms
and swayed and moaned entwined,
I held my post with musket poised
while chills caressed my spine.
Amid the trees and rustling leaves
imagined dangers stirred.
I turned, I peered, I strained my ears,
but only phantoms heard.
I breathed a sigh and stamped numb feet,
ashiver in the cold.
I prayed the night would grow to day
and leave me to grow old.
But stealthy whispers reached my ears,
and I knew I best beware.
With flintlock aimed, awash in fear,
“Halt!” I yelled. “Who goes there?”
No answer came, so back I shrank,
my musket held at the ready.
I heard a step, a booted tread;
my hands became unsteady.
There! A form rose in the gloom,
closing in as I fell back.
I braced myself, took hasty aim
and fired a sharp whipcrack!
I heard a cry, saw a fiery flash,
felt a lead ball strike me down.
It left me in a haze of pain,
splayed on the frozen ground.
I freed my knife, my last defense
as eight more Bloodybacks advanced.
With eyes shut tight, I played at dead,
a swift surprise my only chance.
When over me a redcoat bent,
up I lunged with razored steel
and gave him death with cold intent,
then readied for my own ordeal.
A strong hand seized me by the hair;
a huge fist bashed my cheek.
“Where’s your camp?” a low voice hissed.
“You’ll die if you don’t speak.”
I nearly caved, so scared was I
of losing all I cherish.
Betray my friends? my conscience cried.
By God, I’d sooner perish!
I quelled my fright, braced up my soul,
and looked him in the eye.
“Go straight to hell,” I told the cur.
He growled, “Prepare to die.”
He drew his knife, the blade so bright,
I knew I’d breathed my last.
In seconds, I relived my life,
from present through my past.
Just then, a shot! A furious cheer
that beat the air in waves.
My comrades stormed from shadows near
and attacked the British knaves.
The clash was brief, but oh so fierce
as they fought like men possessed.
My courageous fellows did us proud;
the redcoats did the rest.
Off they ran, those wretched dogs,
their tails between their legs.
They left behind three wounded men
who now for quarter begged.
A friend knelt down to comfort me
and swab my burning wound.
By then, I was in misery.
I swear, I nearly swooned.
“Am I going to die?” I asked in dread
and felt him squeeze my arm.
“’Tis but a scratch, my boy,” he said.
“No reason for alarm.”
They took me to our campsite,
where they praised me by the barrel.
When the General heard of my brave deed,
he crowned my name with laurels.
I’ll ne’er forget the night I chose
my honor over fear.
There comes a time in every life
to guard what one holds dear.
I think myself a better man
for having stood my ground.
And glad I am to say so
when my children gather round.
A Soldier's Soldier
