William was [i]deep[/i] into a very pleasant, very erotic dream.  He was making passionate, sweaty, [i]loud[/i] love to a woman -- presumably Keziah -- who was sitting in his lap, legs wrapped around his waist, hips rocking to and fro, driving them both towards climax. In his subconscious, William felt them explode together. He felt the explosion, he [i]heard[/i] the explosion ... and then he came out of his dream to realize that the fantasy explosions of his dream were the real explosions at the Howitzers that he was supposed to have destroyed in the dark of the night now ended. As he’d held Keziah, waiting for the right time to again dress and slip out to sabotage the guns, he’d missed just how tired he was … and fallen into a deep, pleasant slumber.

He leaped out of the bed, a bit disoriented but quickly getting his wits about him.  He rushed through the house and out the front door, looking to the north.  Far beyond the homes and tall elms and maples, another pair of explosions confirmed William’s fear that the attack on the South Wall was underway.

 “What the hell are you wearing?” one of the Guards flanking the door asked.  The other Guard laughed, pointed toward William’s groin and the all too obvious, slowly shrinking erection to say, “Looks like the war interrupted sum’p’n.”

William looked down at his 21st century jockeys, then back up to each one of the men before turning and returning back into the house without a word. Once in the house, though, he had one specific word to speak, growling, “Fuck, fuck, fuck … what have I done?”

He rushed to don his uniform and quickly exited the house again, dealing with the buttons and buckles and strings as he hurriedly walked north towards the continuing sound of the [i]boom boom[/i] … silence … then [i]boom boom[/i] again. 

He reached the point on the edge of the little village where he could see the guns just as they are firing yet again.  He looked beyond the open pasture land, towards the South Wall, just in time to see the already damage gate being blown open. The Second Regiment’s troops had obviously begun surging forth with the first cannon shots because they were almost to the now open fate already. All along the top of the 200 yard wide South Wall, the air filled with smoke of dozens of Redcoats muskets.

William watched two dozen or more men fall to the hail of deadly balls, yet the attack continued, and soon enough the Militia was surging through the gate.  As the fighting moved beyond the wall, to the British controlled side, William realized that history was changing before his eyes.   A patriot victory today would most likely  alter the future in ways unimaginable to William, and not just for the Patriot and British armies fighting here now or even for the people of Boston.  The Siege of Boston was significant to the outcome of the entire war, to the future of the Patriot victory, and to the creation of the United States of America. And, potentially, to William’s own existence.

The sound of those Howitzers, William knew, was potentially the sound of his own demise...