The Battles of Lexington and Concord, remembered rightly on their semiquincentennial, Were Where Gunpowder and Civil Society Sparked History’s Greatest Nation.
As America approaches its semiquincentennial celebration in July of 2026, there’s a more immediate “250th” at hand that deserves noting, not only for profound acts that instigated historic movements, and history itself, but because they served as a platform for displaying that great American characteristic of voluntary associations.
At hand: This week will mark the 250th anniversary of events glorified by poetry that American schoolchildren once knew by heart—on April 18th, of Paul Revere's Ride (by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow: “one if by land, two if by sea . . .”), and on the 19th, the Battles of Lexington and Concord (made famous by Ralph Waldo Emerson’s Concord Hymn: “where once embattled farmers stood . . .”).
The 18th and 19th are those 1775 days when it all began, when gunpowder flash ignited a nation. There would have been no “it all” but for the agents of sparking: the Minute Men, volunteers—and members of defined, local voluntary associations—whose history, more pronounced because of their role in the Revolution, traced back a century, to the initial colonial moments, intimately bound to the essence of the nation which emerged from Plymouth and Jamestown.
Given a variety of needs—disputes with Native Americans, altercations with England’s nearby French enemies, the innate communal obligation for self-preservation—settlers in the new land early on adopted town-based militia comprised of able-bodied men between 16 and 60, musket-bearing and occasionally trained. In the mid-17th century, the Massachusetts Bay Colony added a twist to this basic defense force by creating special units—better-trained, better-armed, young (aged up to 30), strong, and voluntary—that would engage in moments-notice rapid deployment (in one community’s decree, “who shall be ready at half an hour's warning upon any service they shall be put upon by their chief military officers”).
So were born the “Minute Men,” and the security and stability they gave the foundling colonies proved an obvious factor in pre-America’s growth and expansion.
As the colonies became more self-governing, and less an extension of Mother England (there were America-born fourth-generations by the time Congress declared Independence), and less enamored with distant rule allowing for no formal colonial representation, tensions and grievances grew on both sides of the Atlantic. With their heightening was to come a greater role for and reliance upon the Minute Men, and a date with destiny at Lexington and Concord.
Quashing Fledgling Independence
Consequential things happened quickly. The costly French and Indian Wars were fought, the Townshend Acts passed, spawning great anger in the colonies, a Boston Massacre ensued, so did retributive Stamp Act, so too did their ensuing protests, dramatically captured in the Boston Harbor “Tea Party,” and—with tensions ever-ratcheting—an enraged Parliament doubled down via the retaliatory Intolerable Acts and Coercive Acts, determined to punish Boston and to make the colonies politically dependent.
Oh: And then King George dispatched thousands of Redcoats (and Hessian mercenaries) to contain and suppress what was a growing rebellion.
As 1775 began, brinksmanship was in full bloom. But British expectations that their actions would prove to be effective intimidation were dashed. The ranks of enraged and passionate rebels (now beginning to refer to themselves as “patriots”) grew, and their most-public voices, such as Samuel Adams, were hot with rhetoric calling for a formal separation from the Crown.
It was not mere rhetoric. A general colonial strategy emerged of a two-pronged effort to thwart England’s anticipated use of force. One prong was establishing swift (for the time) communications between towns, counties, and neighboring colonies—the famous “Committees of Correspondence.” The other prong, more consequential, more martial, was to make a much greater investment in the Minute Men.
“At So Critical a Juncture”
In February, two months before the firing of the shot heard round the world, Massachusetts provincial legislature met to define the crisis, and to prepare for conflict. They saw the current events thus:
Whereas, it appears to this Congress, from the present disposition of the British ministry and parliament, that there is real cause to fear that the most reasonable and just applications of this continent to Great Britain, for ‘peace, liberty, and safety,’ will not meet with a favorable reception; but, on the contrary, from the large reenforcements of troops expected in this colony, the tenor of intelligence from Great Britain, and general appearances, we have reason to apprehend that the sudden destruction of this colony in particular is intended, for refusing, with the other American colonies, tamely to submit to the most ignominious slavery;
Their response was to prepare to bear arms against England:
Therefore, Resolved, That the great law of self-preservation, calls upon the inhabitants of this colony, immediately to prepare against every attempt that may be made to attack them by surprise; and it is, upon serious deliberation, most earnestly recommended to the militia in general, as well as the detached part of it in minute men, that they spare neither time, pains, nor expense, at so critical a juncture, in perfecting themselves forthwith in military discipline, and that skillful instructors be provided for those companies which may not already be provided therewith: and it is recommended to the towns and districts in this colony, that they encourage such persons as are skilled in the manufacturing of firearms and bayonets, diligently to apply themselves thereto, for supplying such of the inhabitants as may still be deficient. And for the encouragement of American manufacturers of firearms and bayonets, it is further Resolved, that this Congress will give the preference to, and purchase from them, so many effective arms and bayonets as can be delivered in a reasonable time, upon notice given to this Congress at its next session.”
This was the DefCon One of its day. And it required that special attention be paid to enhancing the military means of the Minute Men:
The improvement of the militia in general in the art military has been therefore thought necessary, and strongly recommended by this Congress. We now think that particular care should be taken by the towns and districts in this colony, that each of the minute men, not already provided therewith, should be immediately equipped with an effective firearm, bayonet, pouch, knapsack, thirty rounds of cartridges and balls.
That April, History’s juncture-moment showed up, prodded by America’s initial, and well-armed, voluntary associations.
It’s good here maybe not only to acknowledge the role of volunteerism at the roots of the Republic, but to recall the events of April 19th—does America care as it once did about the day and its role in our heritage; must there be renewed attention to the actual facts?—which set in motion and direction a course not only for America but for the world.
“The British Are Coming”
The alarm having gone out from Messrs. Revere and Dawes, many of the Minute Men of Lexington—those not living too remotely—mustered and answered the roll call in the dark, cold, wee morning hours of April 19th, and committed to their leader, Captain John Parker, to be prepared for British regulars, sent by General Thomas Gage, as they advanced from Boston to confiscate suspected munitions and arms of the rebellious colonists.
Some of Parker’s company returned to their homes, ready to return immediately at the sound of drums, while others remained at nearby Buckman Tavern, awaiting portentous events.
Which came with the dawn.
When the Redcoats (over 700) were within a half mile of the town, the drums were sounded, and handfuls of sleep-deprived Patriots gathered with their leader on the road before reassembling on the town Commons. Some 38 Minute Men—by eyewitness testimony; historians put the number at 77—were on hand from Lexington’s company of volunteers, cold farmers and tradesmen in the path of an angry juggernaut. For some, it would be their last morning.
One of the company is said to have stated something obvious: "There are so few of us it is folly to stand here." Parker replied that "The first man who offers to run shall be shot down."
On came the British, at a trot. They were led by Major John Pitcairn. “Don’t fire unless fired upon,” ordered Parker, adding famously, “But if they want to have a war let it begin here!"
It did. But only after some confusion. Pitcairn: "Lay down your arms, you damned rebels, and disperse." Maybe it was folly to stand there facing what were held to be the world’s best soldiers. Parker ordered the men to disperse. But he disobeyed the demand to lay down arms.
The ensuing scenario: One of the British officers fired—with respect to Poet Emerson, could this have been the actual “shot heard ‘round the world”? Pitcairn, thinking he had been fired at by the colonials, ordered his troops to fire. They hesitated, surely aware of the monumental consequences.
Pitcairn: "Fire, damn you, fire!" This time he was obeyed. There was a caveat: The volley, on purpose, was over the heads of the dispersing Minute Men. Infuriated, the British commander cried: "G—d d——n you, fire at them!"
So began the bloodshed. In the mêlée underway, Jonas Parker, the captain’s cousin, was mortally wounded, finished off soon by a bayonet thrust—likely the first American to fall in this war’s battle.
Along with Parker, the Patriot dead in the initial action of the Revolutionary War included names worth remembering: Jonathan Harrington, Jr., Ensign Robert Munroe, Isaac Muzzy, John Brown, Samuel Hadley, Caleb Harrington, and Asahel Porter.
Only one Redcoat was wounded. Lexington was a British rout.
But the day was far from over. A contingent of Redcoats headed for Concord, on a mission to find the Patriots’ weapons cache. But Minute Men and militia were amassing there, so much so that come late morning, at the Old North Bridge, 400 Patriots faced a smaller British force of 100. Shots were fired, bodies fell, and the outmanned and outgunned Redcoats retreated to the main force, which in turn made haste for Boston, seventeen miles distant.
It was a bloody march. More Minute Men arrived, and their ranks grew along the British tactical withdrawal—nearly 4,000 are believed to have taken part in the day’s various actions and the prolonged guerrilla action of continuous sniping from behind trees and stone walls. When night finally fell, Boston was quartering British troops, but it was a city under siege, cut off from the Patriot militia.
The anticipated war that brought about the America in which we now live had truly commenced. Day One was marked by a bloody body count: The Patriots claimed 49 dead and 39 wounded, the British 73 killed and 174 wounded.
More would perish before Yorktown. Freedom proved, from the get-go, to be decidedly un-free. But a new nation—one that would come to be marked by its spirit of civil society and voluntary association, unafraid to take on difficult and even deadly responsibilities, manifested in the Minute Men—was born. And we Americans, and the world, are better for the bravery of Lexington and Concord.
