My name is John Christopher Smith XXX the thirtieth in a long line of John C. Smith’s. I am writing this journal so that my descendants will know my part in the creation of the United States of America. My family had started out as blacksmiths in Germany then moved to Britain in the early 1600s during the 30 years war. But soon left in 1648 after English Civil wars began to pick up. We then moved to New Amsterdam or New York. We moved to Philadelphia after it was turned into New Orange by the Dutch in 1673. We then moved to Virginia Williamsburg in 1699 where we resided for many years. I was born on February 19th the anniversary of New York’s reclaiming by England.

May 28th, 1754

“ Smith do you understand anything they’re saying?” Colonel Washington asked me as he crawled towards me rifle in hand. “ Not much only that the officer’s name is Joseph Coulon de Villiers, Sieur de Jumonville, and that the one Indian there is named Paowoa one of the sons of a Chief Pontiac.” I whispered back as the Colonel looked down at the men.

“Hey! Smith you understand any of that fancy talk they speaking down there!?” Mathias asked as he crawled over to where I was crouched his rifle with a spyglass on top to act as a sight at the ready. Following him was his giant friend Peregrine Bagley he stood at a good six-foot three and I was surprised that the French couldn’t see him how big he was! Mathias on the other hand was barely five foot and me and my friend Daniel Ferguson were sure that in battle bullets would just wiz over his head.

Daniel came up behind me with the two of them and our corporal Nicodemus. I explained to them what was what and Mathias already has his gun ready when I told him there was an Indian he hated Indians. “ Okay pass it down the line don’t shoot until I give the order.” Washington hissed and we passed it down the line. I saw my father and grandfather sitting with their rifles ready waiting for something. Then as it would prove throughout history something happened to quickly for any of us.

A French man walked to the edge of the campsite and opened his pants and began to relieve himself. When he looked up into the woods he saw one of us I don’t know who and he looked into my eyes as he began to scream. His scream was cut short by Peregrine’s musket’s report as the shot blew through the man’s windpipe.

Piss and blood flew everywhere as the man hit the ground trying to scream while he was choking on his own blood. “ FIRE!” Washington yelled and we opened up. I aimed for an assistant to Jumonville. My shot hit the man in the left shoulder just to the left of my target. He hit one of the chests near the officer, they spilled over and several documents fell out.

I saw Joseph fall with a wound in his stomach that had gone through his hand. I looked over at Mathias and saw him reloading his piece. I’m sure to this day that he was the one who killed Jumonville. “ Fix bayonets!” yelled Lieutenant Stephens as my grandfather went charging down the hillside. He stuck one of the French against a tree and quickly slashed through.

Tanacharison an Indian chief on our side and his men came charging after them along with most of the men. Washington and Nicodemus flew over the stones with the rest of them. Daniel, Peregrine and I charged over the rocks me with my sword and the other two armed with a rifle and a blunderbuss. I slew two men before I turned to see my Paowoa attempting to scalp a living soldier on our side.

I pulled out one of my pistols and aimed it at the Indian but my grandfather was there before I knew it! The injun had his spear head slashed off and my grandfather pressed the attack. I couldn’t get a clear shot off so I let my grandfather handle it as I finished off a Frenchman near me. Then I saw my grandfather take a blow to the left arm from the Indian and hit the ground hard blood flying everywhere.

“ You Son of a Bitch!” I yelled as I charged at the Indian with my pistol and sword. The Indian had the tomahawk that had wound my grandfather in his left hand and the head of his spear in the right. My sword cut off the stone attached to the tomahawk with ease and the stone spearhead was chipping every time I hit it.

Suddenly the Indian jumped on me and knocked my sword out of my hand. I was lying on my back his knees on both sides of my and on my left hand that had the pistol in it.

He was lowering his spearhead towards my face with both hands and I has holding his wrists with my one right hand. This is where years of working in the forge had helped me. My strong arm was slowly curving the spearhead towards his thigh.

Suddenly with a crack the Indian screamed and fell to the side two large holes in his side one under his arm the other was a large gap where his lung should be. I pointed my pistol at his head “ Go to hell you Son of a Bitch!” I hissed as I pulled trigger.

We rounded up the last of the Frenchmen and counted our wounded. I lay at my grandfather’s side and looked down at him my father was holding his head up.

“ Get us a medic!” I yelled at another soldier who ran off in search of the medic. Daniel stood leaning against a rock a gash across his forehead from the battle. Peregrine and Matthias were sitting down their eyes far away. “ you two saved my life you know “ I told them. This news didn’t seem to get through to them, they had known my grandfather since we all were very small.

My grandfather stirred as I turned back to him. “ wine, wine.” he whispered as I pulled out my wineskin and gave it to him. “ John, I need you to promise me something, promise me that my great-grandchildren will live in this valley in the fort that this war is over.” he said to my father he never called me John. “ I promise as soon as we take the fort I’ll move the whole family there and we’ll build a great house for you right next door.” my father said with tears in his eyes. “ Daniel, to you I give my blessing and I wish I could have seen the day myself. Matthias remember to always aim low, don’t let anything take you by surprise. Peregrine, remember that your friends will always need you and tell your son not to overload the cannon. Johnny, remember these words they are in the old language of Latin and may you live by them. Melior morior bellator quam ago profugus , E pluribus Unum, Nemo solus satis sapit,Nil desperandum, Sic vis pacem, para bellum. And semper fedelis.” he whispered these Latin words as the Colonel and Nicodemus arrived.

“ Colonel, I think I’m going to have to ask for a few days leave.” he joked to the Colonel. “ I believe you need some rest I grant you leave.” “ Thank you master.” “ Nicodemus head these words:

A River God and a Mohawk lead many men into an ambush around a great lake. Both are lost and all flee. Brave men die so others can flee. A son of two enemy’s shall fall and his last words heal them all.

with that my grandfather breathed his last breathes.