September 19, 1742

My first post.

Me!

            My name is James Wolfe. I do not know of what importance these posts will be but I have decided that somehow I will make my life worth remembering. As a soldier, I am not accustomed to keeping track of my life and its events. Maybe this will be my first and last post, or maybe in time, I shall write more.

 I was born in January 2, 1727 in Westernham, Kent in England. I am the oldest son and I have a brother named Edward. My father is Colonel Edward Wolfe, married to my mother, Henrietta Thompson. Brother to my mother is my uncle named Edward Thomson. This is the five of my family of whom I love and show great respect to. My father serves as a veteran soldier with Irish origins, and my uncle is a politician. I spent my childhood years at my home in Westernham, but in 1738, my family moved to Greenwich, located in London. Here, my family and I converted from Catholicism to Protestantism.

My father Edward Wolfe is a respectable man serving as a Brigade Major in the Flanders campaign of the Duke of Marlborough. In our earliest years, my brother and I knew we were destined for future military service because of my father’s ambition and occupation. At age thirteen, I joined my father’s first marine regiment as a volunteer. Just last year, in 1740, the Battle of Cartagena arrived and I was taken beside my father to South America. The expedition held by Great Britain was intended to be a follow up of their victory at Porto Bello. By accompanying my father on this expedition, I had hoped to obtain the valuable military experience and skill of a well-grown soldier. This goal failed me when I fell ill on the journey and my father was forced to send me home. Although I was shamed and embarrassed in front of the troops, my illness seemed to have saved my life. The expedition proved to be disastrous as the British attacked during the rainy season, giving them the disadvantage. I was fortunate to have returned home during the siege of Cartagena, although I worried greatly for my father. Luckily, God allowed the expedition to return home.After my humility during the Cartagena, I was determined to regain my respect and live up to my father’s name.

 In 1740, the War of Austrian Succession broke out and I was offered an opportunity to serve Great Britain’s military. I transferred to a British infantry, the 12^th Regiment of Foot. Six months later, we set sail for Flanders and took position in Ghent. Here I write this entry. It is late at night; all troops are asleep, but I think about my family and my father. I miss them as every other soldier misses their family. Hopefully he will get the chance to join me in this war. It would be awfully good to see him and fight beside him. I have this chance to make my father proud and I will seize the opportunity with great ambition…but for now, I pray, God give me a peaceful sleep and safety for me and my men in the upcoming battle.

J.W.