RESEARCHER
APRIL 19TH - REMEMBER WACO! - PATRIOTS DAY!
Mon Apr 19, 2004 07:25
63.228.145.202
APRIL 19TH - REMEMBER WACO! - PATRIOTS DAY!
http://www.apfn.org/old/wacopg.htm
There are NO Statutes of Limitations on the Crimes of Genocide!
http://www.apfn.org/apfn/genocide.htm
Why Waco?
http://www.apfn.org/apfn/whywaco.htm
Waco Images, Documents & Info
http://www.apfn.org/waco/waco_images.htm
WACO - MILITARY DOCUMENTS DESTROYED
http://www.apfn.org/apfn/waco_mil.htm
WACO = Hillary-Rappoport-Hubble Report
http://www.apfn.org/apfn/rapoport.htm
FBI Special Agent (SA) R. Wayne Smith Waco Report
http://www.apfn.org/apfn/fbiwaco_doc.htm
An Unofficial Account of the Waco Incident
http://www.apfn.org/apfn/unofficial.htm
Sonny Bono killed in skiing accident 01/98
http://cgi.cnn.com/US/9801/06/bono.obit/index.html
Shortly after the Waco disaster, U.S. Attorney General Janet Reno told the
media and Congress she ordered the attack because she had evidence that the
almost two dozen children inside the compound were being abused and were in
danger of further abuse. However, her claims of child abuse have now been
disproven. In fact, some members of Congress have admitted they believed Reno
was lying during her testimony. Sonny Bono, knew she was lying! Video coming
soon!
http://www.alabamafamily.org/pubs/08-26-99.htm
Justice Department investigation should target UT campus
http://www.apfn.org/apfn/whowaco.htm
Patriotīs Day
Patriot's Day commemorates the battle of Lexington and Concord which were
fought on April 19, 1775. Part of the history of this famous revolutionary
battle was the midnight ride of Paul Revere and William Dawes. The Sons of the
American Revolution in Massachusetts were largely responsible for the official
recognition of the event.
http://www.holidayorigins.com/html/patriot_s_day.html
PATRIOT'S DAY 2004:
Below are area events leading up to and including Patriots' Day, 2004 --
which, in the Town of Concord, will be marked this year on the traditional
date -- April, 19. However, starting on April 10th, there are events
throughout the area through and beyond the 19th. April 17th is a special day
at Minute Man National Historic Park with a full day of events. Also check the
Battle Road Website for further information. Thanks to Mike Ryan of the
Concord Minutemen, Rich Stevenson of the Concord Public Ceremonies and
Celebrations Committee, and Carol Haynes from the Concord Museum. For an
article about Battle Road events in the Minute Man National Historical Park,
go here
http://www.concordma.com/magazine/spring04/patriotsday2004.html
Paul Revere's Ride
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Listen my children and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five;
Hardly a man is now alive
Who remembers that famous day and year.
He said to his friend, "If the British march
By land or sea from the town to-night,
Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch
Of the North Church tower as a signal light,--
One if by land, and two if by sea;
And I on the opposite shore will be,
Ready to ride and spread the alarm
Through every Middlesex village and farm,
For the country folk to be up and to arm."
Then he said "Good-night!" and with muffled oar
Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore,
Just as the moon rose over the bay,
Where swinging wide at her moorings lay
The Somerset, British man-of-war;
A phantom ship, with each mast and spar
Across the moon like a prison bar,
And a huge black hulk, that was magnified
By its own reflection in the tide.
Meanwhile, his friend through alley and street
Wanders and watches, with eager ears,
Till in the silence around him he hears
The muster of men at the barrack door,
The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet,
And the measured tread of the grenadiers,
Marching down to their boats on the shore.
Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church,
By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,
To the belfry chamber overhead,
And startled the pigeons from their perch
On the sombre rafters, that round him made
Masses and moving shapes of shade,--
By the trembling ladder, steep and tall,
To the highest window in the wall,
Where he paused to listen and look down
A moment on the roofs of the town
And the moonlight flowing over all.
Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead,
In their night encampment on the hill,
Wrapped in silence so deep and still
That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread,
The watchful night-wind, as it went
Creeping along from tent to tent,
And seeming to whisper, "All is well!"
A moment only he feels the spell
Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread
Of the lonely belfry and the dead;
For suddenly all his thoughts are bent
On a shadowy something far away,
Where the river widens to meet the bay,--
A line of black that bends and floats
On the rising tide like a bridge of boats.
Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,
Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride
On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.
Now he patted his horse's side,
Now he gazed at the landscape far and near,
Then, impetuous, stamped the earth,
And turned and tightened his saddle girth;
But mostly he watched with eager search
The belfry tower of the Old North Church,
As it rose above the graves on the hill,
Lonely and spectral and sombre and still.
And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height
A glimmer, and then a gleam of light!
He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns,
But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight
A second lamp in the belfry burns.
A hurry of hoofs in a village street,
A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,
And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark
Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet;
That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light,
The fate of a nation was riding that night;
And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight,
Kindled the land into flame with its heat.
He has left the village and mounted the steep,
And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep,
Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides;
And under the alders that skirt its edge,
Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge,
Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.
It was twelve by the village clock
When he crossed the bridge into Medford town.
He heard the crowing of the cock,
And the barking of the farmer's dog,
And felt the damp of the river fog,
That rises after the sun goes down.
It was one by the village clock,
When he galloped into Lexington.
He saw the gilded weathercock
Swim in the moonlight as he passed,
And the meeting-house windows, black and bare,
Gaze at him with a spectral glare,
As if they already stood aghast
At the bloody work they would look upon.
It was two by the village clock,
When he came to the bridge in Concord town.
He heard the bleating of the flock,
And the twitter of birds among the trees,
And felt the breath of the morning breeze
Blowing over the meadow brown.
And one was safe and asleep in his bed
Who at the bridge would be first to fall,
Who that day would be lying dead,
Pierced by a British musket ball.
You know the rest. In the books you have read
How the British Regulars fired and fled,---
How the farmers gave them ball for ball,
From behind each fence and farmyard wall,
Chasing the redcoats down the lane,
Then crossing the fields to emerge again
Under the trees at the turn of the road,
And only pausing to fire and load.
So through the night rode Paul Revere;
And so through the night went his cry of alarm
To every Middlesex village and farm,---
A cry of defiance, and not of fear,
A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,
And a word that shall echo for evermore!
For, borne on the night-wind of the Past,
Through all our history, to the last,
In the hour of darkness and peril and need,
The people will waken and listen to hear
The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed,
And the midnight message of Paul Revere.
