The Musket

Muskets, cannons, rockets. Weapons favoured in the age of scientific advancement and technological developments. Within this bloody time period a dreadful war broke out between one of the world’s superpowers and its colonies in the Americas. It was a war that crippled that superpower, a war that changed the course of history. A war between England and the Thirteen Colonies. 

This war was the reason for my creation. It was my destiny to aid my British brothers in a war that we couldn’t win, for we were massively outnumbered. The Americans had the aid of England’s old foe, the French. 

I can still remember the sound of gunshots and explosions. The screams of pain. Shells flying across the sky like angels of death descending onto their victims. The terror on the faces of troops on both sides. Although both sides shook with fear, it was certain that we were going to lose. Only half the army remained and what was left of the other half had broken off and were fleeing for their lives, praying that they would make it back to the fleet alive.

A unit of cavalry suddenly began to thunder towards us. It was as if everything froze apart from the regiment of cavalry and our unit. As the drums sounded, my fellow muskets and I were pointed at the enemy ready to kill. There was a bang and as the cloud of smoke rose it was clear that musket rounds alone wouldn’t frighten them off. We would have to counter-charge them. We let out a massive battle cry and ran towards the enemy, who now had their sabres brandished over their heads. As we collided, a horseman swung his sabre into my carrier’s face. He dropped me and fell over on top of me. He let out his last breath, then he was gone.

In the following days the many thousands of bodies were cleared up and buried. Most of the weapons were reused by the Americans. The few remaining weapons, including me, were sold to members of the public. I was sold to a farmer who brought me home and hung me above his fireplace, which would be my home for the next 100 years. After that I was put in the attic until I was found by a descendent of that farmer who sold me to a museum, where I currently live. Peacefully.

by Kieran Marsden