the rattle of musketry, and the anxiety for his absent father made a lasting impression on the boy's mind.
By and by the shots grew fainter, and tired stragglers began to pass.
had a great iron kettle hung under the elm-tree which you can see to-day, and served chocolate to all who wished it. The stately lady, the granddaughter of Rev. John Cotton
, serving these battle-stained men, makes a picture which Medford
people cannot afford to forget.
Rev. Edward Brooks
, the dignified clergyman, Henry Putnam
, the veteran of Louisburg
, and his grandson, the drummer boy, represent all classes who, as volunteers, hastened to the conflict.
Most of them returned, but Henry Putnam
gave his life at Menotomy
, and tradition says two men named Smith
and Francis were victims of the fight.
The minute-men brought home one of their number mortally wounded.
He was William Polly
, the son of Widow Hannah Polly
He was only eighteen years old.
earned the title of lieutenant during the Louisburg campaign.
On account of his age he was exempt, but, as his great-grandson says, ‘he showed his Putnam
spunk’ and went with the rest.
His son Eleazer was one of the Medford
minute-men, and another son, Henry
, of the Danvers company, was brought to Medford
Henry Jr.'s wife was a Putnam born.
She had three brothers in the battle.
One of them was killed and another wounded.
Stifling her grief, she came to Medford
to nurse her husband.
When preparations were on foot for the Battle of Bunker Hill
he had partially recovered, but had not returned to the ranks.
On the morning of June 17 his wife drove him in a wagon to where his company was stationed, and left him, hardly daring to hope that he would come through the action alive.
But he did good service that day, and served through the siege.
Did the men have all the heroism in those days?
The news of the battle flew like wildfire.