This story was originally published in the Concord Bridge under the title “Modern Minutemen’s Major Moment.” You can read the original story here and the sidebar here.

After an early-morning skirmish in Lexington, the shot heard round the world rang out in Concord on April 19, 1775. The bloody defiance of British authority gave rise to widespread resistance from citizen soldiers armed with muskets and an itch for independence.

Today, some are donning the blue woolen coats of George Washington’s army, hoisting muskets, and re-enacting the war’s early days.

Since 1962, the Concord Minute Men have been commemorating the militias of that time. The modern-day patriots, a familiar presence in Concord parades and at other local events, will play a featured role in the 250th anniversary of the American Revolution. 

Big day, big presence

Capt. Carl Sweeney, who has been a Concord Minute Man for 54 years, starting when he was 16, will lead the 47-strong unit on Patriots Day through North Bridge, along with a music unit. After that, they’ll head to Minute Man National Park, where they’ll perform vignettes of the war’s first battles.

Sweeney said a lot of work went into recruiting members through newspapers, social media, and word of mouth. 

“We’ve been very, very fortunate,” Sweeney said. “We’ve picked up some really great, dedicated, talented people, and our goal is [that] you come join us and you do what you can do to make it fun.”

Drills and rehearsals

The Minute Men have been preparing assiduously leading up to the anniversary. The music company — typically playing fifes and drums — have met every Tuesday night, year round. 

As for the group holding muskets, they ran three to four drills, starting in January, with different units in the area, said Doug Ellis, Sweeney’s predecessor as captain.

“We’ll drill with Acton, Lincoln, Sudbury, Bedford; usually we’ll do it in Lincoln,” Ellis said. “It’s always just a better experience when you’ve got more people doing it.”

They strive for authenticity, Ellis said. The unit will follow the 1764 royal manual of arms, a drill protocol used by the British and adopted by the Colonials.

“They drilled in 1774, same as we are now,” Ellis said. “The whole idea is, we get out there, we do the drills. So we’re all doing the commands the same way. We understand the commands. We understand how it’s supposed to work.” 

Safety is paramount

A different group’s musket misfired a live round through a beam in the Westford Museum during a practice in 2023, so the Minute Men exercise extreme caution to prevent mishaps.

“The primary key is safety because we do have live powder when we’re firing,” Ellis said. “An accident is not acceptable, and we haven’t had one, and we don’t ever want to have one.”

It’s no easy feat being a Minute Man — nor does it come cheap. 

The typical uniform costs around $4,000, although they have hand-me-downs from former members. Maintaining authenticity standards with the National Park Service is difficult. Ellis recalled when a person from NPS accused him of having a cotton canteen strap rather than an authentic hemp one, which he had.

“They’ll split hairs … over the finest details,” Ellis said. “I, for example, will not participate in a national park event because of how just overbearing they are on those little things that don’t matter.”

Sweeney said such strict standards can discourage newcomers, which is why the Concord Minute Men won’t turn anyone away who wants to join.

“We’re really a parade and a celebratory unit, [and] if somebody really wants to represent the town and participate, then we’re all welcoming,” Sweeney said. “Come on in, and we’ll make it work.”

Bicuspids and tricorns

Dentist Stephen M. Vultaggio has been a Minute Man for eight years. His office is decorated in Colonial memorabilia. A tricorn hat leans against a sketch of himself in a Minute Man uniform. 

A blue binder in his office traces his lineage to a foot soldier in the Revolution.

“You can’t go very far without bumping into history,” Vultaggio said. 

He gained an appreciation for history through his grandmother, Florence Towne Bernier, who was head of the Daughters of the American Revolution, an organization for women directly descended from Revolutionary patriots, in Lexington for three decades. 

Vultaggio has since joined other re-enactment groups, such as the 1812 Marine Guard, which works with the Navy and conducts demonstrations on the USS Constitution.

“I think my nickname sometimes, especially with the 1812 Marines, is ‘Hollywood,’ because I love getting out with the people,” Vultaggio said. “I feel like one of those characters at Disney they line up to get [pictures] with. I just like making people smile.”

---

---

A Patriot’s Day

We enter the Masonic Lodge in Concord and put on the gear. The black cartridge box wraps around my torso and hangs by my right hip. I hoist the 9-pound musket and place the tricorn hat on my head. 

If it weren’t for my modern blue jeans, I’d be ready for 1775.

Doug Ellis, a former captain, usually marches side by side with his fellow Concord Minute Men. Today, he’s got a bumbling reporter to instruct in the ways of a latter-day citizen soldier. 

“Shoulder your firelock!” he orders.

In two motions starting with the right hand, he swings the long musket across his torso. Then, against his left shoulder with the lock of the gun facing away. The long weapon adds a few feet to his height. 

I repeat the motion.

The musket is balanced and ergonomic. With enough training, someone might feel good about holding it. For my part, I just don’t want to drop it. I also keep tapping my hat, which feels crooked on my head.

Ellis instructs me to hoist the musket in different ways, demonstrating how to present the firelock and how to properly place it by my side. 

Another unfamiliar task

I embarrass myself as I try to flip the ramrod, a long steel rod meant to load a musket, down the barrel. I struggle to pull it out of its sheath and throw it down the barrel. It bounces with a ping. 

“Prepare your firelock!” He orders once again.

I lift the musket and place its brass butt against my right shoulder. He steps behind me, placing his left foot along the side of my right. The barrel of his musket is parallel to mine. 

“Fire!” he orders.

Normally, a flash of smoke and fire would billow about 15 feet from the mouth of the barrel. Instead, it snaps.

“Pretty cool, right?” he asks.

I asked him about the muskets, which he refinished himself. He walks through the details of stripping, sanding, and refinishing the walnut stock of the many firearms he’s fixed up. Some barrels, he said, have rusted over time. 

I’m told the other Minute Men are especially fond of the ornate weapon I’m holding.

He details his work with pride, passing his hand along the long gun as if he’s refinishing it now. He talks about his appreciation for the ergonomic design and the balance of the musket, which was “remarkable” for the time. 

I fire the musket one more time. Its snap echoes in the lodge.

I place the musket by a brown pew with blue cushions and remove my cartridge box. For some reason, the hat now feels comfortable.

I help him bring his equipment back to his car. Before he opens the trunk, he points at his license plate, which reads “1775.”

“My two loves: masonry and 1775!” he says.

This story is part of a partnership between The Concord Bridge and the Boston University Department of Journalism.