Now say, what’s that sound on the wind? Can you hear it? Possibly not, perhaps now all that rises to the ears these cool fall mornings is the whistle of the wind, the rustle of the leaves fast falling, or the song of wayward birds overstaying their allotted time here in the last days of a fading Indian summer. 

I should hope these are all the sounds now heard, because 250 years ago this week, on Oct. 18, 1775, a very different sound rose up to echo inland from the coast; the roar of cannons, of fire and explosions, war and tyranny. For in this week’s installment in our series looking back on the birth and course of our nascent Revolution, as seen by the eyes of Bridgton citizens, today we will be discussing one of the cruelest acts of perfidy and wanton destruction ever perpetrated by the British Army, and one of the keenest blows ever struck against our fair State. It was to this outrage that old Enoch Perley referred in 1776, when writing on the peacefulness of our new settlement he declared, “For here, I’ve found a happy land, Where cannon, and the sound of war, Are only heard as news from far.” 

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