My father got killed during an Indian Raid, and my mother was taken captive. I never saw her again. My eldest brother John and I moved in with some uncle. He was never home. I played alone, learned alone, cooked for myself, and grew up alone. Not until I turned 21 I had met the dearest love of my life, John Corbin. He was my first care, our mutual love for one another overcame us. We were married quick. All was well in our small house, I had someone who truly endeavored to always help me. He felt obligated to be there. Someone to educate me right from wrong. Up until John and I received a dreaded letter, only three years later.
“I have to go, Margaret. We have no money, we don’t have jobs, by going to war I could get some money. I will be back.” He held me one last time. That night he had gone.
I never thought he would have to leave me so soon. I knew I couldn’t let him go alone, so I made the decision to pursue after him. It took me four and a half days to arrive in Manhattan where I met with many more women like me.
“We are to cook for them, do laundry for them, and to dress their wounds,” Lucie M. Ferris, the “one in-charge”,  bitterly advised me the first day. “We are to only follow the war never take part in it. It’s the men’s work to fight. And for us to tend to them.”
“But-” I would start, “I came here to aid my husband, John.”
“I’m sorry, Margaret is it? That was very… ignorant of you.” She cleared her throat. “Everyone knows women are meant for the kitchen, men are the laborers.” Then she turned away to be greeted by four more men being hauled in by a wagon. “Clear off more bed space. Mary-Ann and Elizabeth hurry over, these men need dressing!”
I clear away some hair that has fallen in front of my eyes. John used to brush my hair behind my ears when it grew long. I pull a little locket from inside my dress, John had given it to me when we’d just met. I will find you John, I will see you again. With time.
Months had past and everything was still unchanged.
“ ‘Scuse me ma’am?” An older soldier tugged at the hemming of my dress as I was dazing out the window again.
“How may I help, Sir?” I turned towards him. His voice was raspy. And his torso was heavily bleeding through all the bandages. His face had a yellow tint to it almost leathery.
“You must be John’s wife. You’re even more pretty then he tells.”
The moment he said John I knelt down beside him. “My John, how is he? Is alright?”
“Why yes ma’am. He’d probably would be in the bed next to me if it wasn’t for you miss. He gushes ‘bout you. Telling how you are the only thing keepin’ him goin’.”
“Where is my John? Is he close?” I grabbed his arm.
He coughs and dabs his mouth with some spare cloth. “Fort Washington Ma’am. He’s leadin’ man of the cannons. Don’t know what we’d have done without him.”
“Fort Washington? That’s not too far.” I glanced down.
“You aren’t thinking of walking, are you?” I looked back up at him, and he stared at me, “You think they’ll let you just walk right into battle?” He chuckled which then lead into a cough, “Walkin’ will take days on end. The train will leave tomorrow ‘round mid-day.”
“They’d never let me step foot on a train.”
The soldier looked around and reached under his cot to retrieve some of his clothes from his pack. He choked on his breath and winced as his stomach bent. “Dress like one of ‘em and they won’t think nothin’ of it.”
I grabbed his uniform with his helmet. I examined them considering my consequences. “But what could I do? I’m just a measly woman, only to do the clean up work for the men. I wouldn’t last one day.”
He grabbed my hand, “Don’t forget, women are mighty onto themselves. Men would be nothin’ without the work of a woman. You can help John, you can help guide him back home. He’s lonely Margaret. He needs you.”
“I’ll get to see my beloved John.” I’d let a quick smile slip. “Thank you, uh. I’m sorry what is your name?”
“Buckhout, James Buckhout. But John always called me Buck.”
“Thank you very much Buck.”
I got up and began to walk away. He started coughing again. I was almost out the door when I saw three more women rush over to Buck. He was still coughing and began to vomit. “It must be Yellow Fever.” I hear one of the nurses say. Worriment had spread over their faces. I turned away and disappeared out of the tent.

It was almost as easy as Buck said it would be to get on the train. No one even took notice of me. Everyone was in the midst of their own business. We arrived at Fort Washington in three days time. With several other men, I was pushed to the cannons. I frantically looked around for my dearest John. He wasn’t hard to find he barked commands at anyone who would listen.
“Sir!” I shouted as a came nearer to him. “Sir!” He looked down at me his brows were furrowed for a couple of seconds until the look of realization had come over him.
“Margaret.” He said ever so quietly he pulled my arm to drag me aside. As soon as he and I were more secluded from everyone else, he tightly embraced me. “Margaret, I’ve missed you so much. I promised myself I would come home for you.” He stepped back for a moment, “Who’s clothes are you wearing?”
“Buck! He came into the hospital and told me he knew exactly who I was as soon as he saw me.”
“ENEMY FIRE!” Cannons sounded.
“Hurry Margaret, tell me are you here to fight?” John held both my arms and looked dead into my eyes.
“Yes John. I’m here to fight with you and for you.”
A smile erupted across his face. “Then let’s go win this fight.” We rush to the nearest cannon.
Time and time went by and I still loaded John’s cannon. I stood back, but John pulled me away. “Margaret watch-”
His hand still clutched my uniform sleeve for a split second. The cannonball drew him back before he smashed into the ground. It was definite that his ribcage had cracked into him inward. I shouted for him. I yelled and yelled. But could never be heard over the sounds of the continuing cannons. I stopped and knelt over him. I touched his face. A flicker of life came back for a second. His eyes twitched and met mine. He gasped once “Fight for me Margaret. You’re a strong woman. Stronger than all these men. And you have something worth fighting for.” He swiftly drawn my hair back behind my ear. 
“I will fight. I will fight for you John.” I said, and he nodded off. His hand dropped, and I laid it on top of his chest. His death was quick. Faster than a pin dropping.
I wipe all of the escaped tears from my eyes. I stand and sniffle one last time.
I turn to the cannon. “For John.” And I begin to fire. I became the new leader in that moment. Barking commands. They asked of my name, and I responded with Molly. They called me “Captain Molly”. They would remark at my “steady aim” and “sure-shot”.
Ages seemed to go on until-
I was struck with a force as great as a boulder. I was knocked unsteady. I looked to my side. My left arm felt as if in a wildfire. I could not move my fingers anymore. John would’ve not let me go down like this. I can go on.
Men were dying to my left and right. “WE MUST GO ON!” I had spit everywhere, and the words came out jumbled together, bruised or even broken.
Minute after minute went on, when a booming voice rang over everyone else's even over the cannons. “RETREAT! LEAVE THE CANNONS! RETREAT BACK TO THE DELAWARE RIVER!” General Washington shouted. Everyone scattered all away from the direction of fire.
I fled fast, I, unlike my past mother, would not be captured, I knew I needed to escape this. I was franticly running with many, but there was definitely not nearly as many as had come.

We lost more than we gained. We had lost all the cannons, thousands of military supplies, and had more deaths and injuries than Britain.
I sat with a nurse, but never looked at her. She wrapped my arm tight, or so she says, I could not feel a thing.
“No one was captured, General.” I was near to General Washington with my back to him, so he could not have any recognition of my face. I was close enough to hear.
“We lost. Men were killed and even more injured.” He responds with his head held low.
“Is this good?” The nurse asks.
“What oh yes.” I rub my arm ever so slightly. “Thank you.”
The nurse leans in a little. “I think it was very brave of you to go to war to find your husband. I would never have that type of bravery.” When she said bravely I turned all my attention to her.
“Bravery?” I shook my head. “No. It was simply common sense, I knew being in the tents helping fallen soldiers was not my place. I knew I needed to be along side my John.”
“But ma’am you’re a woman. It’s a woman’s job to tend to the men. Never to take part in the war. It’s not a woman’s place to fight. We cook, clean, and tend for the men.”
“I do suppose that’s how I’ve been brought up. But as once told to me ‘Women are mighty onto themselves.’” The young nurse opened her mouth but shut it, and then she looked down. Taking what I said into consideration.

Everyone was sent back to their homes. I arrived at my small house, the cold interior greeted me. Complete and utter silence was the only thing left. I had nothing. No money, no food, no John. No... my John. Gone. Months had gone by. Years even. Until one day. July 9th, 1779. I woke up to no breakfast or anything, with a letter on my porch along with a package underneath it. Labeled: “Margaret C. Corbin, In regards from the Continental Congress of America.” I opened it carefully. Inside was a notice stating, “We as the Continental Congress recognize you, Margaret C. Corbin, of your brave services award you a lifelong pension. (Equivalent to half that of male combatants)” The last part was written in separately.
I was tearing up. No, I was sobbing. The only other recognition I had gotten from anyone was $30.00 from the state of Pennsylvania. I slouch down to open the package a note had been posted on it. “Inside is a suit of clothes to replace the ones demolished in the warfront. Ms. Corbin, I hope life suits you well, do great things. Woman are mighty onto themselves”. John would be proud of me. I know he would.