Godscreation
Regular Member
imported post
1775:
Samuel Whittemore, age eighty years, upon seeing British soldiers marching toward Concord [Mass.] prepared by oiling his musket and pistols and sharpening his sword. Whittemore had posted himself behind a stone wall, down Mystic Street about four hundred and fifty feet….The distance seemed an easy range for him, and he opened fire, killing the soldier he aimed at. They must have discovered his hiding place from the smoke-puff, and hastened to close in on him. With one pistol he killed the second Briton, and with his other fatally wounded a third one. In the meantime, the ever vigilant flank guard was attracted to the contest, and a ball from one of their muskets struck him in the head and rendered him unconscious. They rushed to the spot, and clubbed him with their muskets and pierced him with their bayonets until they felt sure he was dead…..Whittemore lived eighteen more years, dying in 1793 at the age of ninety-eight.
From "Armed America, The story of how guns became as American as Apple Pie"
I'd like to see all you cocky armchair quarterbacks tackle this one!
1775:
Samuel Whittemore, age eighty years, upon seeing British soldiers marching toward Concord [Mass.] prepared by oiling his musket and pistols and sharpening his sword. Whittemore had posted himself behind a stone wall, down Mystic Street about four hundred and fifty feet….The distance seemed an easy range for him, and he opened fire, killing the soldier he aimed at. They must have discovered his hiding place from the smoke-puff, and hastened to close in on him. With one pistol he killed the second Briton, and with his other fatally wounded a third one. In the meantime, the ever vigilant flank guard was attracted to the contest, and a ball from one of their muskets struck him in the head and rendered him unconscious. They rushed to the spot, and clubbed him with their muskets and pierced him with their bayonets until they felt sure he was dead…..Whittemore lived eighteen more years, dying in 1793 at the age of ninety-eight.
From "Armed America, The story of how guns became as American as Apple Pie"
I'd like to see all you cocky armchair quarterbacks tackle this one!
