The Death of Abigail Cassel

April 25, 2018
By zpolidoro BRONZE, Bristol, Pennsylvania
zpolidoro BRONZE, Bristol, Pennsylvania
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

My name is Abigail Cassel, and my father is Peter Cassel, a hessian soldier. He was recruited by the British government. We were staying in camp on the morning of December 26, 1776, until we died.

I can remember it like it was yesterday. It was brisk outside that morning, the cold air made me shiver, but it gave me my energy. My father was still hungover from the previous night, since he had been drinking along with his fellow soldiers. They had said they deserved a drink since it was Christmas. Despite my father’s hangover, he managed to put a coat on me. It was only near 20 degrees and I had already had a slight cold. My father observed me for a few minutes before returning to our tent. I headed towards the icy water. Our camp was located near the Delaware River. However, today it resembled an ice rink and not a river.

I placed my hands in the water and picked up a few chunks of ice. It was most likely cold but I wouldn’t know, my hands went numb awhile ago. While living in camp I had become use to the struggle of being cold. I looked across the river and saw what appeared to be a small boat. I rushed back to the tent, my father needed to know about this.

I started to shake my father, but he wouldn't get up. “Papa, please” I whispered. My father slowly opened his eyes, but he didn't look pleased to see me. “Abigail, you know I need my sleep. There is a war going on around us!” said my father in a low, agitated voice. “I know papa, but please just come outside for a minute” I said, my voice cracking, nearly on the brink of tears. My father spoke again, this time with a gentle tone. “Abigail, I’ll go outside, but this is the last time”.

I took my father’s hand and guided him to the spot I was standing just a few minutes prior. “Abigail, I see nothing. Maybe you were hallucinating, it is freezing out here”. The words that slipped from my father’s mouth shocked me. “No papa, I swear I saw something. It looked like a boat”. “Sweetie, just go back to sleep”. I realized I had no choice and followed my father. I laid restless in the small tent. I knew what I saw, I knew it was real. BOOM!

The sounds of muskets being fired rung in my ears. I glanced at my father to see a panicked expression on his face. He rushed out of our tent, I quickly followed. A musket ball flew past my head. I looked ahead of me, but I had lost sight of my father. I was surrounded by tents with nowhere to go.

I ventured a little further and was traumatised by what I saw. My father laid dead on the ground, out of the corner of my eyes I saw Colonel Johann Rall laying next to a building, mortally wounded. I should've been paying attention, but the action was too much for me.

In not even a mere five seconds I was struck with a cannon ball. I hadn’t even gotten to live. I never explored or saw momma again. Now it is much too late for that. I have faded into oblivion. I am dead.

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