Jeff Shaara dazzled readers with his bestselling novels  Gods   and Generals,   The Last Full Measure , and  Gone for Soldiers . Now the acclaimed author who illuminated the Civil War and the Mexican-American War brilliantly brings to life the American Revolution, creating a superb saga of the men who helped to forge the destiny of a nation. “A ROUSING NOVEL RECOUNTING THE EVENTS THAT LED TO THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE.” –The Washington Times “Dazzling . . . All the drama of a revolution is brought to light in Rise to Rebellion . . . . A stellar endeavor, it’s an unforgettable saga about special men and women who helped forge the destiny of a nation.” –Rocky Mountain News “THIS MAY BE [SHAARA’S] BEST BOOK YET. . . . A HIGHLY READABLE TALE, HISTORY DISGUISED AS ENTERTAINMENT.” –Seattle Times/Post Intelligencer “HISTORY MASTER JEFF SHAARA SCORES AGAIN . . . WITH HISTORICAL ACCURACY AND A YOU-ARE-THERE IMMEDIACY.” –The New York Post “A ROUSING NOVEL RECOUNTING THE EVENTS THAT LED TO THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE.” –The Washington Times “Dazzling . . . All the drama of a revolution is brought to light in Rise to Rebellion . . . . A stellar endeavor, it’s an unforgettable saga about special men and women who helped forge the destiny of a nation.” –Rocky Mountain News “THIS MAY BE [SHAARA’S] BEST BOOK YET. . . . A HIGHLY READABLE TALE, HISTORY DISGUISED AS ENTERTAINMENT.” –Seattle Times/Post Intelligencer “HISTORY MASTER JEFF SHAARA SCORES AGAIN . . . WITH HISTORICAL ACCURACY AND A YOU-ARE-THERE IMMEDIACY.” –The New York Post Jeff Shaara is the New York Times bestselling author of A Chain of Thunder, A Blaze of Glory, The Final Storm, No Less Than Victory, The Steel Wave, The Rising Tide, To the Last Man, The Glorious Cause, Rise to Rebellion, and Gone for Soldiers, as well as Gods and Generals and The Last Full Measure —two novels that complete the Civil War trilogy that began with his father’s Pulitzer Prize–winning classic, The Killer Angels . Shaara was born into a family of Italian immigrants in New Brunswick, New Jersey. He grew up in Tallahassee, Florida, and graduated from Florida State University. He lives again in Tallahassee. THE SENTRY March 5, 1770 He had been in Boston for nearly eighteen months, had come ashore with the rest of His Majesty’s Twenty-ninth Regiment after a miserable journey down from Halifax. The troops had been summoned to the boats by their commander, General Thomas Gage, had been told only that they were going to the Massachusetts colony to maintain the peace. Few had any idea how that peace might be threatened, and nearly all saw the journey as an escape from the lonely isolation of the king’s most northern port. When they finally marched out of the cramped warships, they moved into a town where the people did not welcome them, did not provide homes or hospitality. Now, after nearly two years, the conflicts between the citizens of Boston and the soldiers had become more than the unpleasant argument, the occasional barroom brawl. The discipline of the troops had begun to slip; men became frustrated by the hostility around them, the taunts and minor assaults, and when the officers were not close, many of the soldiers had begun to strike back. The citizens had responded to the anger of the troops with anger of their own, and gangs of young men armed with clubs and the occasional saber began to patrol the dark alleys outside the pubs and meeting places of the soldiers. The fights were more numerous now and were sometimes bloody. While the local magistrates were quick to arrest and prosecute, both sides protected their own, and no one had any illusion that the law could protect the innocent. Inspired by the newspapermen, who presented each incident in passionate detail, playing up the seething hostility, the citizens were more and more restless, fueling the growing anger toward the British troops. To many civilians, this military occupation was oppressive, and even those most loyal to the policies of London recognized that the presence of the troops was dangerous; with the right spark, the minor disturbances could explode into a bloody disaster. His name was Hugh White, and he had served in the Twenty-ninth Regiment for nearly three years. He had little ambition, had no particular designs on promotion, considered the corporal above him to be a far better soldier. He rarely spoke to the officers, was not a face or a name that anyone would ever single out. But today, he had been singled out, given a job that most in his company would dread. The duty was not for punishment of some indiscreet act. It was simply his turn. And so he stood guard in front of the Custom House, shivering against the sharp cold in a small wooden guardhouse, standing sentry to a place that would rarely attract attention. He moved around as much as the cramped space would allow, touched the walls on three sides of him, felt the rough cold wood. His fingers were