Below the Bluff

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Trigger warning: war, mentions and use of weapons

*** = start and stop



Tomorrow is the Winter's Ball, but we just received bad news that it might be postponed due to a pending battle with the British. General Washington led us a few miles South to a bluff. Usually, with that distance and in these boots, my feet would hurt severely, but I'm just so used to it by now that it doesn't faze me. When we arrived, we hid in the dense tree area and waited for the British to approach below the bluff. They wouldn't expect us there because we traveled further than the arranged meeting point to ambush them. I wouldn't call it unfair since they have done it before, too.

Ahem, the Battle of Bunker Hill?

***

We all fell silent as we heard marching from the distance. I hid behind a large tree next to Alexander and John. My breathing became short and difficult as the British drew closer. I began sweating buckets, and my stomach twisted into knots. I could tell the boys wanted to help calm me down, but we didn't have time for that. I tightly clutched my bayonet to my chest with my finger ready to pull the trigger.

This is so different from the last time. We're up close, instead of firing from a distance.

Earlier, Washington ordered not to shoot 'until you can see the white of their eyes.' And, god, did he truly mean it.

(A/N: History nerds, I know someone else said that, but I included it because it makes sense in the story. Don't come at me!)

We were all watching him from where he was standing 20 yards to the side of us.

Is he ever going to give the command to attack???

I internally panicked as the British marched forward with every second.

It felt like an eternity before Washington whipped his hand down when the British were only 50 feet behind us.

Our soldiers jumped out from our cover and began firing. The British were frozen in shock, and their front lines were rapidly knocked out, but they quickly recovered and loaded their weapons and began countering.

Screams and loud gunshots were heard from both sides. A bullet flew only a few inches from my face and hit someone behind me.

I kept firing, adding to the bloodbath.

I reloaded.

I fired more.

Eventually, the British ran out of ammunition, as they were to stop at a nearby camp to pick up supplies that we had to sneak past. They retreated from wherever they came from - hopefully, all the way back to Britain.

And just like that, it's over. We tend to our wounded. We count our dead.

I turned around and took in the sight of my alliance.

Only a few soldiers lay on the ground, every one of them still alive.

I glance back down below, where the British soldiers lay. At least ten times the amount of our injured is injured on the British. The ones who were still alive lay there helpless, abandoned by the rest of their army.

Do we just leave them to die?

My face fell, and I felt like crying. Those soldiers could've had families. They could've been drafted into the war to kill against their will.

I didn't even realize I had started crying until I felt a drop of saltiness fall into my open mouth. I continued to stare below the bluff.

I know this is war, and I knew what I was coming into from the beginning. However, imagining it and experiencing it firsthand are two different things.

I don't know how long I stood there before I felt someone come up behind me and slowly spin me around.

John pulled me into a hug, and a few seconds later, the other three guys made it a group hug.

Other soldiers did the same with each other.

"We should help them. We can't just leave them to die there!" I pulled away.

Lafayette turned back to the other soldiers, "Monsieur Washington! Can we go check them out down there?"

Washington held a stern face. "I suppose. Be careful. If they try anything, don't hesitate to finish them off." He turned the other way.

Alexander nodded and led us down the steep rocky cliff. John and Hercules carried the medical supplies.

There were horrifying blood pools around every soldier. Luckily, no one tried anything while we patched them up the best we could. In fact, many of them thanked us and asked God to bless us. One of them reached his hand out to me. I took it and held it while he spoke.

"Tell my wife, Mary Hasdburg, that I love her," he whispered.

I nodded quickly as he let go.

There were many more of those moments.

We only managed to save a few lives - those who didn't initially receive fatal wounds. The others, well, there were too many to give a proper burial to each. I stood there in the center of it all and said a prayer.

It's these unforgettable moments you wish with all your might you could forget. 

***

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