He was heavy-hearted in the early morning when he kissed the young wife and took the baby from the cradle in his arms, but is resolute now.
“Attention, battalion! Trail arms! Left in front! March!” Luther Blanchard pipes the tune, and the battalion—the men of Acton leading—descends the hill.
The redcoats had recrossed the river and were taking up the planks of the bridge. A moment later muskets flash beneath the elms, and maples along the farthest bank and there is a whistling of bullets in the air. Roger’s heart is in his throat, but he gulps it down. Another volley, and Captain Davis, Abner Hosmer, and Luther Blanchard reel to the ground. Never again will Hannah receive a parting kiss, or the father caress the baby crooning in the cradle.[61]
“Fire! For God’s sake, fire!” shouts Major Buttrick. Roger cocks his gun, takes aim at the line of scarlet beneath the trees and pulls the trigger. Through the smoke he sees men throw up their arms and tumble to the ground. The scarlet line dissolves, the soldiers fleeing in confusion. No longer is Roger’s heart in his throat. His nerves are iron and the hot blood is coursing through his veins. King George has begun the war; no longer is he his subject, but a rebel, never more to owe him allegiance.
The forenoon wore away. The British were returning from Colonel Barrett’s, having destroyed the cannon carriages, thrown some bullets into a well, and broken open several barrels of flour. It was past noon when they formed in line once more to return to Boston.
“We will head them off at Merriam’s Corner,” said Colonel Barrett.
The planks which the British had removed from the bridge were quickly replaced. The minute-men crossed the stream, turned into a field to the left, and hastened over the meadow to the road leading to Bedford. It was past three o’clock when they reached Mr. Merriam’s house. Roger saw the British marching down the road. Suddenly a platoon wheeled towards the minute-men and brought their guns to a level. There was a flash, a white cloud, and bullets whistled over their heads. Once more he took aim, as did others, and several redcoats fell. Before he could reload, the serried ranks disappeared, marching rapidly towards Lexington. The minute-men hastened on, and at the tavern of Mr. Brooks he sent another bullet into the ranks of the retreating foe.[62]
