Sweat streams down my face as I ram a patched ball down the barrel of my long rifle. 150 yards away British soldiers and their Shawnee guides panic as bullets fly by them, firing every which way, not knowing where their attackers are. As I raise my rifle and pull back the hammer I see a redcoat struck by a musket ball, he falls to his knees with a blank facial expression, blood flowing down from his chest. I aim for a Shawnee, pull the trigger, and hear a thud, he is hit in the stomach, my bullet hit home. I try not to think about what I have just done, I just killed another human being, someone's husband, someone's father, someone's son. I wonder to myself if it is worth it, is our endeavor to have a nation of our own worth human lives? In any case, the King has brought this upon himself, and we surely won't let him forget that.