A Life at Home

Friday July 1, 1863, I'm a 16 year old boy named Fredrick Gooblestine. My dad is in the Battle of Gettysburg right now fighting along with Gen. George G. Meade to take on the Confederates. I live in Lexington, Kentucky and I live with my mom and my sister Peggy.

Saturday July 2, 1863, I overheard my mom talking to my sister Peggy, she is 22, about how this is the second day of the war and they said that it was a high count of deaths. She told me to go out and milk the goat, and get the eggs from the chicken coop. Peggy helped me set the dinner table for breakfast and fry the eggs. There was a soldier that was going to the war that was next to my house so I gave him 3 things water, blankets, and clothes.

Friday, July 1, 1863, A soldier that was next to my house came to my house

Saturday July 2, 1863, My dad is serving in the battle of Gettysburg. My mom came running in crying with the newspaper in her hand.  They headline said, "Thousands Die in the Battle of Gettysburg." I wrote a letter to him hoping he would get it but I didn't think he would get it but it was about how much I love him and how I missed him. Here it is.   

Dear, Dad

     Hi Dad we miss you back at the house and we just hope that you are still alive. When you get home you'll have to tell us about how you guys are fighting against the Confederates in Gettysburg. You have to tell us about how you guys could overtake the Confederates.   

                                                                                                                                Sincerely your son,

                                                                                                                                                 Fredrick

Sunday July 3, 1863, The war has ended and as I was looking out my window to see if I could see my dad coming but nobody was there, I was so sad that he wouldn't be coming home, until I gave one last look and I see my dad hobbling on one leg to the house and I run out and give a big hug. I almost knocked him over. It was late at night so I went to sleep.

My dad set a piece of paper on my nightstand in the middle of the night, and it read,

     Dear Son,

     Thank you for sending me the letter my leg was amputated during the war because I was shot in the leg so they sent me home, we ended up losing the war. I couldn't thank you enough for sending me that letter it felt so good even though I had lost my leg.

                                                                                                          Sincerely, Your Father

     "Abraham Lincoln has been Shot!" "John Wilkes Booth Shoots President Lincoln!" As I read these article my mind went into fear that the president was shot. It gave a valid description that John Wilkes Booth shot Abraham Lincoln in the back of the head at Ford's Theater.

     After he shot Lincoln he jumped off the elevated booth and his spur on his boot caught the american flag in the booth and he landed wrong on the stage and broke his leg.

     He had a horse outside and he went to a doctor and he patched his leg for him and he eventually was trapped in a barn. They lit the barn on fire and Booth raised his gun to shoot one of the soldiers/policemen they shot him right in the spine and it paralyzed him.

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