Forgotten Patriots Who Supported the American Struggle for Independence By Kirk Stewart
I recall being awake and listening to the groans and cries of my comrades. Each night, I felt as if someone had found out my secret, and at every footstep my heart would quicken. Fear of my secret being uncovered and the pain of my injuries were starting to affect me then more and more. However, I willed myself to stay strong, to fight for independence, and to protect my secret. As I wait for General Knox, I think of my past when I was an indentured servant, then later when I prepared my body, and now when I fight for my country despite my wounds. I should be recognized for supporting the cause of independence during the American Revolution because I was an indentured servant, I fought in the war, and I have kept my secret for 18 months(“ Deborah Sampson 1760-1827”).
When Jonathan Sampson, my father, left my family, we thought he was lost at sea. I became an indentured servant around the age of ten as a result of his leaving. When my old man left my family, my mother could not feed seven children and herself, so she sent me and a couple of my siblings away to work(“ Deborah Sampson 1760-1827”). While I was a servant, I did manual farm work, which well prepared me for my later years in the army.
When I fought in the war, I fought in the Fourth Regiment, Massachusetts Continental Line(“ Henretta”). However, I only served for eighteen months near the war’ s end. During this time, I received two major wounds. The first was a saber cut on my head, and the second was a musket ball that got lodged in my thigh. I tried to cut the bullet out with my penknife, but I was unsuccessful. Remembering the pain still sends shivers skittering down my spine. The blood was vibrantly red, and I could hardly make out the ball. As I slid my penknife into the gaping hole in my leg, I felt faint, and my hand twitched as I brought the pen knife deeper into the hole. The pain was excruciating(“ Moran”).
When I pulled the pen knife out of my wound, I sat on the ground dazed. My comrades urged me to go to the doctor, but I refused them because of my secret(“ Moran”).
I was sure that the doctor would find out the truth and send me home, so I did not go to the clinic. Despite my efforts, one day I fell unconscious and was carted off to the clinic where the doctor discovered my greatest fear. Thankfully, he kept it to himself, but he said nothing to me at the time. I stayed in the clinic for a few more days after the doctor’ s discovery. Unfortunately, the doctor’ s daughter fell madly in love with me, and the doctor insisted that I tell his daughter the truth. At first, I was dumbfounded that he knew. Later, he described how he had noticed the cloth bound across my chest that did not hold back blood from a wound(“ Henretta”). When I recovered from the shock of his discovery, I told his daughter the truth(“ Moran”). I could swear that the expression on her face changed from jubilation to that of a withered plant, shriveling up and dying. It broke her heart, and mine, to give her the news. Word got round the camp like a wildfire on a day with strong winds. My secret was out: I am a woman.
As I write this, I wait for General Knox. It seems as though I wait for eternity, but I know that nothing lasts. I have dreaded this moment since I first enlisted. Squirming in my chair, I hear the sound of heavy boots