1780, July one.

He walked around the camp writing something. Sometimes he wished Washington would let him fight, instead of..writing, all day. Don’t get him wrong, him and writing go hand in hand.

But how was he ever going to get glory if all he did was write at a desk all day. His train of thought was stopped when he ran into someone, causing him to fall. “Ow!” He groaned and looked up at you. “Watch where you are walkin’, sir!”