When you read this novel about April 19, 1775,  you will see the British redcoats marching in a  solid column through your town. Your hands will be  sweating and you will shake a little as you grip your  musket because never have you shot with the aim of  killing a man. But you will shoot, and shoot again  and again while your shoulder aches from your  musket's kick and the tight, disciplined red column  bleeds and wavers and breaks and you begin to shout  at the top of your lungs because you are there, at  the birth of freedom -- you're a veteran of the  Battle of Lexington, and you've helped whip the  King's best soldiers...