The din of cannon fire

The smoke hung thick in the air. The echoes of the previous explosion still filled the air. But there was no time for it to dissipate, more explosions were rapidly following. The explosions lit the sky, washing his face with multicolored lights. Each boom brought a new hue.
It was fourth of July, America's Independence day. And like always, he was celebrating with fireworks. The concussion of the explosions shook his body, each boom shaking a little more. As he sat back and enjoyed the splendor, he started to drift off into his imagination.
He wondered what it would have been like to have lived here, in New Orleans, two hundred years ago during the war of 1812. Instead of fireworks, that would be cannon fire, the smoke the smell of burning buildings, perhaps even flesh.
He wondered if he would have been counted among the brave souls that risked their lives against a larger force, defending their homes, in the name of a country they didn't even belong to yet. Such courageous men. Would he have answered the country's call years later, and fought to defend it from an oppressive North? What about during the second world war? Would he have the courage to answer the patriotic call of his nation? Did he have what it took to answer the call today for those same reasons? Was he willing to die to protect the ideas of freedom and liberty?
Boom.
The show continued, while he dreamed of things that never were.