Yorktown’s Fighters
September 28th, 1781

Private Benjamin Wallace, with the rest of his unit, had just come to find the city of Yorktown, Virginia, right in front of them. There, he knew, was the great Redcoat general, Lord Cornwallis. He didn’t know how many troops Cornwallis had, but some of the scouts had said to General Washington that it was about 9,000, along with some German soldiers with them. Wallace knew the Continental Army numbers were 8,000 regulars and around 3,000 militia. They also had another 8,000 French soldiers on their side. Still, he knew it would be a tough battle. They were still up against the greatest army in the world, as well as their navy. Sighing, he continued to follow his orders for the rest of the day.

October 9th, 1781

“Ben, are you ready?”
The voice was from Private Christopher Rogers. Rogers and Wallace had been close friends since they remembered. When the war broke out, they had both signed up to fight for the Patriot cause. They had been placed in the Fourteenth Virginia Infantry.

“No, but I don’t think I have a choice,” Ben responded.

The trench had just been finished. All the guns were in place. General Washington was approaching one of the cannons.

“Well you better get ready soon, because we are about to fire a lot of stuff at the other side of this bunker,” Chris said.

Almost as soon as he had finished those words, the sound of a cannon boomed in the air. Then, the Redcoats responded with a cannon of their own.

“This really isn’t going to do anything, is it?” asked Ben.

“No, I don’t think so. Then again, it could damage some of the defenses, though.” Chris said.

“I guess you’re right.”
That night, the cannons and guns kept on firing, and the Redcoat guns soon ceased to fire.

October 14th, 1781

Every member in the Fourteenth Virginia Infantry had fear circling through his entire body. They had received orders that they, along with a few hundred more troops, were going to assault redoubt 10, one of the Redcoat-controlled areas of the field. They were to attack at night, increasing the element of surprise.

“I don’t know about this,” Chris said worriedly.

“We have to do this. We have our orders. Plus, I’d love to kill a Lobsterback myself,” Ben responded.

“We might not get out of it alive-”

“I know that. But unless you want to protest to General Washington, you’re going to have to attack with us.”

6:30 came along. The order was given to march.

“I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die,” Chris kept on repeating.

Ben felt the exact same thing going through him. Redoubt 10 was a few hundred yards in front of them. Suddenly, the order to charge came. The Redcoats, panicking, opened fire. A few men fell, but the rest kept on running. Eventually, they came to the bunker, bayonets fixed and working. The Redcoat fire was heavy, but the Continental Army was overwhelming. The British retreated, but Alexander Hamilton had expected that. He had sent Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens across the redoubt before, along with some of his troops. The entire redoubt garrison, being surrounded, was forced to surrender. Meanwhile, Chris had been grazed in the leg. When Ben found him, he rushed to his side.

“What happened?” Ben asked.

“Redcoat bullet.”

“Did it go into the leg?”

“No. Just a graze.”

“You need to see the medic.”

Nodding his head in agreement, Chris, with the assistance of Ben, half-walked, half-dragged himself to the medical tent.

October 16th, 1781

“Chris, are you awake?”

Christopher Rogers woke up in a medical tent beside the bunkers.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“An entire day. It’s the sixteenth.”

“What’s happened?”

“We’ve corned Cornwallis. He’s taking fire from our forces on the ground, as well as fire from the French navy.”

“Well that’s good,” Chris exclaimed, coughing softly afterwards.

“Private Wallace,” an officer said, “Get back to your post!”

“See you,” Ben said, grabbing his musket and going back to the battlefield.

“Fire!”

The cannon boomed in a loud explosion. Seconds later, there was an impact, and several soldiers in red fell to the ground. Ben was at another cannon, preparing to fire it.

“Make ready! Take aim! Fire!”

Ben light it, and the loud bang practically tore his ears out. It was worth it, though, as it hit its target, taking down a few Redcoats. Ben, loading the next shot, wondered how long it would be until this siege was over with. He didn’t have to wait that long.

October 17th, 1781

It was morning when Ben saw something that he, and everyone else in the Continental Army, loved the instant he saw it. It was a drummer with an officer flying a white flag. He instantly cheered, along with thousands of his fellow soldiers. Chris, who had been able to walk a little since his injury, came limping over to Ben right at that moment.

“I guess we’re our own nation now, huh?” he said with a huge smile on his face.

“Yeah,” Ben replied, with the exact same reaction on his face, “I guess we are.”

“This makes us the defenders of Yorktown, doesn’t it?” Chris asked.

“No,” Ben answered, “This makes us the fighters of Yorktown.”