I'm going to do this TL in a different style. It will be told through the viewpoint of a student in a history class, and through the viewpoint of someone in the time period the student is learning about.
PS: I am from Pennsylvania, in case you couldn't guess
Enjoy!
Part 1: Butterflies
June 17th, 1779, Charleston, Massachusetts
Cannonballs shrieked overhead, as the colonial forces on Breed’s hill huddled in their works. Lieutenant Daniel Shays relayed the order that had been given by Colonel Prescott. “Don’t fire till you see the whites of their eyes, men! Let’s show those redcoats what real Massachusetts men can do!” John Williams tightened the grip on his musket, and peered over the lip of the earthworks at the neat lines of British soldiers advancing up the hill towards them. Another cannon fired, and the ball passed a few feet over Williams, who immediately ducked back behind the earthworks. The image of the redcoats marching in neat lines, bayonets glittering, frightened him. He said a quick prayer. He didn’t know if it would help, but it couldn’t hurt, he figured. Then, too soon, the time came. “Up, you louts!” screamed Sergeant Brooks, and other sergeants, and Williams, along with the rest of the company, stood. “Ready!” was next, and Williams settled the musket on his shoulder, pulling the flint back all the way. “Aim!”. Williams sighted along the barrel as best he could, pointing it at a tall blond, resplendent in his uniform. “Fire” Williams closed his eyes and pulled the trigger, feeling the ten-pound musket slam into his shoulder. When he opened them again, it seemed that hell had paid a visit to Breed’s Hill. Smoke stood in the air all along the colonial positions, and through it Williams could see many in the front rank of Redcoats tumble over, some clutching at themselves and screaming, and others falling without a sound. Williams watched in horror as the redcoats further back smoothly moved into the front ranks to replace the dead and dying. Williams reloaded and fired, again and again, and the redcoats finally broke, just yards from the American positions. He, as well as his fellow soldiers gave a cheer. But the battle was not over.
Again, later in the day, the redcoats attacked. Hundreds fell before they were finally stopped. Throughout the battle, Lieutenant Shays was everywhere, encouraging, cajoling, and threatening, just where he was needed. As the redcoats approached the firing line, the colonists were on the verge of breaking, but each time a group of soldiers was about to run, there was Shays, yelling encouragement and standing up in front of the enemy. Not wanting to seem cowardly, the soldiers stayed and fought, and won, for the second time that day. However, it could not last. By the third attack, Williams was down to three rounds, which he quickly expended. The rest of the company was in a similar state, and the British finally reached the colonial trenches just as the retreat was blown. Again, there was Shays, standing on the top of the hill, waving a sword he got from god knows where, and inspiring the men to stay in formation for the retreat, and not run for their lives. As Williams watched, helpless, a few men rushed back into the trench to save a precious cannon, along with Lieutenant Shays. As the British surged forward, Shays stood back and fought them hand to hand, killing five, and wounding seven more, before finally going down under the weight of a dozen British bayonets, allowing the men with the cannon to reach Colonial lines. “The Lieutenant is dead!” a soldier shouted, but the men did not break, and retreated with the rest of the colonial forces in an orderly fashion, living to fight another day.
“All for the want of a horseshoe nail…”