What had the world come to? Wars were being fought from opposite sides of the sea. Soldiers were invading our homes and taking what was ours. What gave them the idea that they were superior to us? Was it the pride of being a “Royal Soldier?” Or could it just be they were brainwashed citizens, minds controlled by the Crown? Still yet, I don't believe there was any reason we were not equal with the soldiers of King George.

The Crown set aside, I still could not accept my fate as a married woman. I did not want to marry a man I didn't love and live in a life of lies. I was to be wed to Daniel York in less than six months and I was terrified. My mother told me I was out of my head for not loving Daniel. My sister Charlotte cooed with envy at him, and my father said I would learn to embrace his imperfections. Never once did I feel the need to “learn to love” Daniel York, and I never had to, because I would not stand for it. He was a drunkard, a gambler, and a violent man, and, as a capable farm wife, I deserved better.

It was nearing the end of 1775 when I decided to make my daring escape. The Colonial Army was forming, and Daniel was drafted, therefore, my parents decided to move my wedding forward by three months. Even though sixteen was late to wed, I wasn't going to settle just for the sake of my reputation. As the day crawled nearer, my plan was coming together perfectly.

The day before the wedding was the day I went into action. After the dinner party, I retreated to my room in our farmhouse. There, using a rusty blade from my father's collection, I proceeded to cut off nearly two feet of blonde hair. Next, I gathered up the things I had hidden away over the past few months and packed them in a small bag. As midnight drew closer, I made my getaway, dressed in a stolen Colonial Army uniform. In these days, you could be anyone you wanted, so I chose the name Gabriel Wright while sneaking out the window of our farmhouse. My hair was combed, my shirt was tucked, and a stolen musket peeked out of the rucksack on my back. As soon as my feet hit the dewy grass below, I was no longer a woman, but a soldier under General Gates.

The first year was long and hard, and I had to expend twice as much as the men did to keep myself a secret. I worked harder, I woke earlier and laid down later, all to keep up my facade of a male soldier. I met my best friend, Thomas Reader, who had a fighter's spirit if I have ever seen one. My hopes were high for the Army, as we had a brilliant battalion of men from 11 different colonies. All I hoped was that I would get through the war alive and be able to start a family someday. Even though I did not know it at the time, my dreams were soon to be aided by a single bullet.

It was July of 1777 when I was shot. General John Burgoyne led an expedition of 8,000 men to seize Fort Ticonderoga back from the Americans. General Gates had left his troops at Ticonderoga, and we were under the order of General St. Clair. Three weeks after the change in command, Burgoyne invaded the fort. 18 of us were shot, but only 11 survived. I happened to be one of the 11, fortunately. Yet, with fortune comes disaster, because Thomas happened to be my aide on the battlefield. I was still conscious and alert enough to take care of my own wound, but Thomas insisted on dressing the ill-placed rib shot. It did not take a genius to realize I was a woman, and Thomas was extraordinarily intelligent. After ten minutes of struggling to keep him away from my wounds, Thomas's strength won the battle and I was caught.

After fighting with Thomas for nearly ten days over our “secret,” he finally agreed to keep things between us. I revisited the past two years for him as I tried to explain my predicament. Honesty wasn't a problem when I could finally afford to be honest. I told him everything about Daniel and my parents. He was sincerely apologetic for all the worry he put me through in those ten days. We were finally best friends once again after nearly two weeks.

When the war drew to a close nearly 6 years after Ticonderoga, I went back home to my family. It was a celebration for my parents, who thought I was dead. Daniel had been killed in the war some years earlier, so I was no longer being forced into a marriage, which made me ecstatic.

Some months after I returned to Pennsylvania, Thomas Reader showed up at my door. Right in the middle of Charlotte's engagement supper, there was a sharp knock. Being the closest to the door, I entered the foyer to answer the rapping only to see a blonde-haired, green-eyed soldier standing on the porch. If you have never experienced true happiness, you would not know just how I felt that day.

That year was amazing. I was finally wed, nearly 9 years after I was supposed to be. Thomas and I were married on June 15th in the garden behind the farmhouse. My hair was slowly growing back to it's former length, and I had enough to brush by the time we said our vows, which made me happy. Thomas said it was odd and beautiful seeing me transform back into the person I used to be. At the end of the year, we found that we were going to be parents, and in July of the next year, a healthy baby boy was born.

It was amazing feeling watching our son grow up. Over the years, I held his three siblings in my hands the same as I did him. Andrew, Sybil, Patrick, and Belle all grew up so fast. The things I remember most were the nights around the fireplace, when Thomas and I would tell the stories of the war. Once, when Sybil was just a few months old, and Andrew just four years, we told him of the battle for Fort Ticonderoga, and how I was shot. He came up to my chair and said, “Mother, you did all that? And you are a GIRL?”

I answered, “Yes, Andrew. I did. And if I hadn't, you wouldn't be who you are today.”

Andrew hugged me tightly and whispered in my ear, “Don't worry, mommy. I think you are the truest soldier there ever was.”