Such was the opening contest of the American Revolution.  Those shots were the signal of a tempest of war which was destined to end in the establishment of one of the greatest nations known to human history.  As for the men who lay dead upon Lexington green, the first victims of a great cause, they would be amply revenged before their assailants set foot again on Boston streets.

The troops, elated with their temporary success, now pushed on briskly towards Concord, hoping to be in time to seize the stores.  They reached there about seven o’clock, but only to find that they were too late, and that most of the material of war had disappeared.  They did what damage they could, knocked open about sixty barrels of flour which they found, injured three cannon, threw some five hundred pounds of balls into wells and the mill-pond, and set fire to the court-house.  A Mrs. Moulton put out the flames before they had done much harm.

The time taken in these exercises was destined to be fatal to many of those indulging in them.  Militia were now gathering in haste from all the neighboring towns.  The Concord force had withdrawn for re-enforcements, but about ten o’clock, being now some four hundred strong, the militia advanced and attacked the enemy on guard at North Bridge.  A sharp contest ensued.  Captain Isaac Davis and one of his men fell dead.  Three of the British were killed, and several wounded and captured.  The bridge was taken.

Colonel Smith was in a quandary.  Should he stand his ground, or retreat before these despised provincials?  Should veteran British troops fly before countrymen who had never fired gun before at anything larger than a rabbit?  But these despised countrymen were gathering in hordes.  On every side they could be seen hasting forward, musket or rifle in hand.  Prudence just then seemed the better part of valor.  About twelve o’clock Colonel Smith reluctantly gave the order to retreat.

It began as an orderly march; it ended as a disorderly flight.  The story of Lexington had already spread far and wide and, full of revengeful fury, the minute-men hastened to the scene.  Reaching the line of retreat, they hid behind houses, barns, and road-side walls, and poured a galling fire upon the troops, some of whom at every moment fell dead.  During that dreadful six miles’ march to Lexington, the helpless troops ran the gantlet of the most destructive storm of bullets they had ever encountered.  On Lexington battle-green several of them fell.  It is doubtful if a man of them would have reached Boston alive but for the cautious demand for re-enforcements which Colonel Smith had sent back in the early morning.

Lord Percy, with about nine hundred men, left Boston about nine o’clock in the morning of the 19th, and a short time after two in the afternoon reached the vicinity of Lexington.  He was barely in time to rescue the exhausted troops of Colonel Smith.  So worn out were they with fatigue that they were obliged to fling themselves on the ground for rest, their tongues hanging from their mouths through drought and weariness.