{"id":844,"date":"2009-02-24T23:58:00","date_gmt":"2009-02-24T22:58:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.branedy.net\/?p=844"},"modified":"2009-02-24T23:58:00","modified_gmt":"2009-02-24T22:58:00","slug":"heros-and-politicians","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.branedy.net\/?p=844","title":{"rendered":"Hero’s and Politicians"},"content":{"rendered":"

In doing some ‘research’ I came across a bit of a historical myth from the American Revolutionary War <\/a> And I was thinking of Heroics and Politics. Have you ever wondered why we don’t have any hero’s these days? <\/p>\n

\nTHE BLACKSMITH AT BRANDYWINE<\/p>\n

Terrible in the field at Brandywine was the figure of a man armed only
\nwith a hammer, who plunged into the ranks of the enemy, heedless of his
\nown life, yet seeming to escape their shots and sabre cuts by magic, and
\nwith Thor strokes beat them to the earth. But yesterday war had been to
\nhim a distant rumor, a thing as far from his cottage at Dilworth as if it
\nhad been in Europe, but he had revolted at a plot that he had overheard
\nto capture Washington and had warned the general. In revenge the Tories
\nhad burned his cottage, and his wife and baby had perished in the flames.
\nAll day he had sat beside the smoking ruins, unable to weep, unable to
\nthink, unable almost to suffer, except dumbly, for as yet he could not
\nunderstand it. But when the drums were heard they roused the tiger in
\nhim, and gaunt with sleeplessness and hunger he joined his countrymen and
\nranged like Ajax on the field. Every cry for quarter was in vain: to
\nevery such appeal he had but one reply, his wife’s name–Mary.<\/p>\n

Near the end of the fight he lay beside the road, his leg broken, his
\nflesh torn, his life ebbing from a dozen wounds. A wagoner, hasting to
\njoin the American retreat, paused to give him drink. “I’ve only five
\nminutes more of life in me,” said the smith. “Can you lift me into that
\ntree and put a rifle in my hands?” The powerful teamster raised him to
\nthe crotch of an oak, and gave him the rifle and ammunition that a dying
\nsoldier had dropped there. A band of red-coats came running down the
\nroad, chasing some farmers. The blacksmith took careful aim; there was a
\nreport, and the leader of the band fell dead. A pause; again a report
\nrang out, and a trooper sprawled upon the ground. The marksman had been
\nseen, and a lieutenant was urging his men to hurry on and cut him down.
\nThere was a third report, and the lieutenant reeled forward into the
\nroad, bleeding and cursing. “That’s for Mary,” gasped the blacksmith. The
\nrifle dropped from his hands, and he, too, sank lifeless against the
\nboughs.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

In doing some ‘research’ I came across a bit of a historical myth from the American Revolutionary War And I was thinking of Heroics and Politics. Have you ever wondered why we don’t have any hero’s these days? THE BLACKSMITH…<\/span><\/p>\n

Read more Hero’s and Politicians<\/span> ›<\/span><\/a><\/div>\n

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