There Will Be Bloody Bill

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes guest historian Andrew Waters

Appearing this month at the Journal of the American Revolution (JAR) is an article I wrote on William “Bloody Bill” Cunningham and his infamous raid known as the “Bloody Scout.” The article attempts to provide a single-source narrative of the Bloody Scout and some of the contexts for it, although it is based on a previous article I wrote (though never published) that attempted to explore more deeply its sociological implications.

            Anyone who comes to western South Carolina and has any interest in the American Revolution will soon encounter Bloody Bill. As I attempted to explain over at JAR, “without veering too deeply into sociological speculations, I can only say that his (Cunningham’s) presence is still palpable here, embedded in the cultural DNA. Though he may be only a curiosity in other parts of the United States, if he is known at all, in the South Carolina Upstate, it seems there will always be Bloody Bill.”

Continue reading “There Will Be Bloody Bill”

Patriot Field Gun Horse Harness

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes back guest historian Karl G. Elsea

When visiting Revolutionary War battlefields there are often replica field guns (sometimes with original barrels) on the grounds. What is often not shown is the equipment needed for the gun to get to the field. That movement required horse(s) and harness and a limber. An earlier article provided information on Patriot limbers. This article concerns the horse harness.


NPS Yorktown, Author’s photo. Original 4-pounder barrel on reproduction carriage

There are inventories and paintings that show British harness used during the war. Muller’s A Treatise of Artillery shows the horse harness hook-ups on British limbers for medium and heavy artillery, and it is somewhat unique. The British hook-up appears more restrictive as to horse size. The cart-saddle used by the British was ubiquitous. It seems reasonable that the Patriots would have used the same harness with the exception of the specialized hook-up hardware on the limber. The following part of a Philipp Loutherbourg painting of Warley Camp detailing a review in 1778 clearly shows the cart-saddle with chain on the thill horse and the rest of the British harness.

Continue reading “Patriot Field Gun Horse Harness”

Secrets of the Patriot Limbers

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes back guest historian Karl G. Elsea

When visiting Revolutionary War battlefields there are often replica field guns on the grounds. Not shown, in almost all cases, is the vehicle that pulled the gun to the battle – the limber. Though less “cool” it was essential.

Author’s limber and photo. Obsolescent British design with cart hook-up hardware modification

Today, there is no surviving original Patriot field gun limber from the American Revolutionary War. That is a problem when attempting to reproduce representative Patriot field gun limbers. The normal starting place, Muller’s A Treatise of Artillery, does not include information concerning British field (light) gun limbers. Muller’s Treatise only contains information on limbers for medium and heavy guns.

The absence of any original limbers is especially gulling because the Patriots had access to both obsolescent designs and the most advanced designs. The Hessian field gun limber was probably the most advanced limber design in 1776, and the Patriot forces captured six of them at Trenton on December 26, 1776. The Hessian limber design had three important improvements; firstly, the pintle (pin that connects the gun carriage to the limber) was behind the axle of the limber thus allowing a shorter turning radius and less likely damage to the gun carriage. Secondly, an ammunition box containing sixty rounds was on the limber. Thirdly, two wheel-horses were used instead of one thill horse thus providing twice the braking power. It would be interesting to know if the Patriots reproduced or incorporated those design elements.

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North Carolina’s Regulators, the Battle of Alamance, and Public Memory

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes guest historian Jeremiah DeGennaro, Historic Site Manager for Alamance Battleground

In the summer of 1773, Josiah Quincy made a trip to North Carolina. A well-known lawyer and Son of Liberty in Boston, Quincy headed south with the aim of gauging support for a coming revolution, and establishing correspondence with those who were “warmly attached to the cause of American freedom.” Quincy was received by many of the movers and shakers of North Carolina politics. The same men who hosted him—Cornelius Harnett, William Hooper, Robert Howe, and others—later became influential figures in the American Revolution. But upon his arrival, Quincy was quite curious about a different group of North Carolinians: the Regulators. Years before, this group of poor and middling farmers in backcountry North Carolina organized a grassroots movement that called for an end of government corruption, reformation of the rigged justice system controlled by elite “courthouse rings,” and progressive taxation in which citizens paid according to their wealth. At their peak they had thousands of supporters. Their detractors called it a rebellion. In 1773, it had been less than two years since they had been defeated at the Battle of Alamance by Governor William Tryon and his volunteer militia, the movement abruptly crushed. Quincy must have been curious about the motives of former Regulators as potential allies to what he called the “Cause of America.” How warmly attached to the cause of American freedom were they?

He spoke to three different sources, all with firsthand knowledge of events. He sat through a 3-hour lecture against the Regulators by Robert Howe, who commanded the artillery that devastated the Regulators at Alamance. The next day, Quincy met Colonel William Dry for breakfast. Quincy identified Dry as “a friend to the Regulators…he gave me an entire different account of things.” After hearing a few different accounts of the now-defunct Regulators, Quincy abandoned the topic, noting in his journal: “I am now left to form my own opinion.”

Continue reading “North Carolina’s Regulators, the Battle of Alamance, and Public Memory”

“Rev War Revelry” 18th Century Weaponry

Brown Bess. Grasshopper. Charleville. May seem like random names with no connection to the title of this post. On the contrary though, these names, be it nicknames or the actual name, of the firearm or artillery piece were all used by the soldiers and militia of the American Revolution.

This Sunday, at 7 p.m. EST, on Emerging Revolutionary War’s Facebook page, the next “Rev War Revelry” will dive into the weaponry that was prevalent during the era of the American Revolution. Joining ERW will be T. Logan Metesh of High Caliber History LLC of which he is the founder.

With over a decade of experience working for the Smithsonian Institution, National Park Service, and the National Rifle Association Museums, Metesh is a sought after consultant, writer, and museum professional. He will use his interpretive ability to present history and research on firearms and firearms development to this historian happy hour.

We look forward to welcoming Logan Metesh to the “Rev War Revelry” Sunday night chat and hope you will join us as well.

Hindsight is 2020 (or 2021)

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes guest historian Liz Williams, from Historic Alexandria, the host of the second annual symposium

When we planned our 2nd Annual Revolutionary War Symposium for 2020, our theme came easily – Hindsight is 2020. Little did we know that our cheeky title would take on a different meaning as we had to navigate a global pandemic. But I am excited that we can still offer our symposium (yes 6 months later) and virtual!  In this format, we can zoom our experts to computers and smartphones across the country. And this year we have a great variety of topics – from Drunken Hessians to African American Continentals. Learn about Loyalists, battles in the Southern Theatre, and along a creek in southeastern Pennsylvania.

As we move toward the 250th anniversary of the nation, it is critical for us all to look with fresh eyes at our founding. At Gadsby’s Tavern Museum, we engage with the complexity and challenges of early America, many of which were rooted in what transpired before and during the Revolutionary War. By understanding our past, we can continue the work of creating a better United States for all.

The Symposium costs $40 per person, $20 OHA Members & Students and reservations can be made at AlexandriaVa.gov/Shop. Looking forward to seeing everyone on May 22!

North Carolina’s Response to the 1775 Battle of Lexington and Concord

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes guest historian Travis Copeland

Rumors roared throughout the Colonies in the Spring of 1775. From Watertown, Massachusetts with an earnest pen, a letter was taken down at 10am on Wednesday Morning, April 19, 1775. Reports had been sent to New London, Rhode Island, and we’re beginning to extend south to the Carolinas. There were reports that, “action had happened between the King’s Troops and the inhabitants of Boston.” The shot fired in Lexington, Massachusetts on April 19 was “heard around the world,” and North Carolina would be no exception. The above, brief sentence recount of the battle was enclosed with the expanded statement,

To All Friends of American Liberty let it be known,

That this morning before break of day a [British] Brigade consisting of about one thousand or twelve hundred men landed at Phipp’s farm in Cambridge, and marched to Lexington, [Massachusetts] where they found a Company of our Colony Militia in arms upon whom they fired without any provocation and killed six men and wounded four others. By an Express from Boston we find that other Brigades are upon their march from Boston supposed to be about one thousand…I have spoken with several who have seen the dead and wounded.[1]

In the age of foot-speed news, a letter penned on April 19 could take weeks to reach the inhabitants of North Carolina. From the Massachusetts committee of safety, the letter was dispatched with earnest haste to Worcester and then beyond the Massachusetts borders. Connecticut, New York, and British Canada were given a recount of the events by April 25, although news by mouth spread as rapid as fire.[2] In the last week of April, no news had yet reached deep South. New Jersey and Maryland were informed by pen just before April became May, but the southern colonist was still much in the dark. Finally, on Friday, April 28th at 8pm colonists from Alexandria, Virginia sent the statement and letter to Fredericksburg and from there to Surry County, Chowan, and Onslow, North Carolina. A flurry of exchange between Virginia and North Carolina created a clamor. War! 

Each county repeated to the next, “disperse the material passages through all your parts.”[3] On May 3, Edenton and Chowan passed-on the news of the clash with his Majesty’s troops.[4] The delegates at Craven County received the news on May 6th. It was ordered that they, “in haste have sent to request you will pursue the enclosed papers and you will do by opening the packet herewith sent the moment it comes your house.”[5] No more important news than the coming of the Revolution, although unknown in the fullest sense, could create such an exasperated command. Yet, the Bath delegates were not done with their orders. They further demanded that Craven county, “get three or four of your Committee to write a line and send the whole enclosed to the next Southward Committee with the utmost dispatch.”[6]

The clamor of excitement came from a colony that was thought to be deeply sympathetic to the British. Regards for the crown were certainly present in the Southern colonies, but the circular letter’s earnest nature displays the patriotic fervor that ran through the colonists. Finally, the letter was directed to Abner Nash, who represented the provision rebel government in North Carolina. As the news reached the upper echelons of society, directions were given to extend the news to anyone using a horse or bearer.[7] Cornelius Harnett, prominent Patriot politician in Wilmington, directed those who would receive the letter to, “for God’s sake send the man on without the least delay and write…to forward it by night and day.”[8] Others shared Harnett’s tone, writing, “Pray don’t neglect a moment in forwarding” and “I cannot avoid writing to you to beg you to forward the Paper containing such important news and pray order the express you send to ride night and day.”[9] Finally, directions were given to move the letter to South Carolina, “to be forwarded to Charlestown.”[10]

Several weeks after the initial fury of letter exchange, another letter was written from Lieutenant Governor Bull of South Carolina to the Earl of Dartmouth. The provisional governor allied with the Crown reflected on the disposition of the Carolinas. Despite the growing desire to show British force against the rebellious colonists, Lt. Gov. Bull stated plainly that, “The account of the Skirmish or Engagement between the King’s Troops and the Provincials of Massachusetts near Lexington on the 19th of last month, seems to produce effects here [the Carolinas] very different from intimidation.”[11] The southern colonist of North and South Carolina would not be thrown back or made afraid by the acts of British commanders and their regulars in the North.

The Continental Congress would not be intimated. It’s North Carolina representatives William Hooper, Joseph Hewes, and Richard Casewell issued a circular letter which shared the tone of Lt. Gov. Bull’s correspondence. They stated plain, with the April 19, 1775 battles of Lexington and Concord in mind, 

Heaven seems to have assumed the protection of the injured insulted Colonists and signally to have appeared in their Favour: when in the last Battle at Lexington six hundred raw, undisciplined Provincials defeated eighteen Hundred regular Troops and pursued them into their Camp…It becomes the duty of us in whom you have deposited the most sacred trusts to warn you of your danger and of the most effectual means to ward it off. It is the Right of every English Subject to be prepared with Weapons for his defense. We conjure you by the Ties of Religion Virtue and Love of your Country to follow the Example of your sister Colonies and to form yourselves into a Militia. The Election of the officers and the Arrangement of the men must depend upon yourselves. Study the Art of Military with the utmost attention, view it as the Science upon which your future security depends.[12]

The colony of North Carolina and its leadership was moved by the initial recount of battle and the circular letter’s news of Massachusetts. The waters of Revolution were rising and the Patriot leaders were beginning to call for more than just a uniform exchange of words. They desired for the state to take its formidable place in as rebels in the South. Further, the flurry of response to the Lexington engagement shows the prominent place of North Carolina in the revolution from the earliest days. Leaders in the South did not wait until the war moved South in 1779, 1780, and 1781 to throw their pens, support, and persons behind the cause of Gen. Washington, the Continental Congress, and the New England colonies. North Carolina was revolutionary from the start.

Sources:

[1] “Letters Concerning the News of the Battle of Lexington in Massachusetts, April 20 – May 9, 1775,” Colonial and State Records of North Carolina, vol. 9, p. 1234.

[2] “Letters Concerning the News of the Battle of Lexington in Massachusetts, April 20 – May 9, 1775,” Colonial and State Records of North Carolina, Documenting the American South, https://docsouth.unc.edu/csr/index.php/document/csr09-0412. vol. 9, p. 1230-31.

[3] “Letters Concerning the News of the Battle of Lexington in Massachusetts, April 20 – May 9, 1775,” Colonial and State Records of North Carolina, vol. 9, p. 1236.

[4] “Letters Concerning the News of the Battle of Lexington in Massachusetts, April 20 – May 9, 1775,” Colonial and State Records of North Carolina,. 9, p. 1237.

[5] “Letters Concerning the News of the Battle of Lexington in Massachusetts, April 20 – May 9, 1775,” Colonial and State Records of North Carolina, vol. 9, p. 1237.

[6] “Letters Concerning the News of the Battle of Lexington in Massachusetts, April 20 – May 9, 1775,” Colonial and State Records of North Carolina, vol. 9, p. 1237.

[7] “Letters Concerning the News of the Battle of Lexington in Massachusetts, April 20 – May 9, 1775,” Colonial and State Records of North Carolina, vol. 9, p. 1238.

[8] “Letters Concerning the News of the Battle of Lexington in Massachusetts, April 20 – May 9, 1775,” Colonial and State Records of North Carolina, vol. 9, p. 1238.

[9] “Letters Concerning the News of the Battle of Lexington in Massachusetts, April 20 – May 9, 1775,” Colonial and State Records of North Carolina, vol. 9, p. 1238.

[10] “Letters Concerning the News of the Battle of Lexington in Massachusetts, April 20 – May 9, 1775,” Colonial and State Records of North Carolina, vol. 9, p. 1239.

[11] “Letter from William Bull to William Legge, Earl of Darmouth, May 15, 1775,” Colonial and State Records of North Carolina, Documenting the American South, https://docsouth.unc.edu/csr/index.php/document/csr09-0426. vol. 9, p. 1258-1260.

[12] “Letter from William Hooper, Joseph Hewes, and Richard Casewell to the Inhabitants of North Carolina, June 19, 1775,” Colonial and State Records of North Carolina, Documenting the American South, https://docsouth.unc.edu/csr/index.php/document/csr10-0011. vol. 10, p. 20-23.

Travis Copeland is a North Carolina native with a love for early American history. He holds a B.A in History and Humanities and is studying for a postgraduate history degree. His research interests include North Carolina history and the early southern United States from the Revolutionary War to the Civil War with a particular interest in military conflict, political-social integration, and local history. When not researching and writing, he enjoys teaching, the outdoors, gardening, and good food and beer. Travis lives and teaches in North Carolina.



The First American Civil War

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes guest historian Sean Chick

On October 7, 1780, Britain’s attempt to regain at least part of the rebellious North American colonies was dealt a major blow at King’s Mountain. The rebels rejoiced, since it was their first major victory since 1777 and it came after the twin disasters at Charleston and Camden. Thomas Jefferson, then governor of Virginia, considered it the decisive battle of the war. Years later, Theodore Roosevelt echoed that sentiment. In 1930, when the site was set to become a national park, Herbert Hoover gave a speech. For the embattled president, it was an attempt to shore up his falling support and vindicate his strategy to peel southern states away from the Democratic Party. Hoover said “This is a place of inspiring memories. Here less than a thousand men, inspired by the urge of freedom, defeated a superior force entrenched in this strategic position. This small band of Patriots turned back a dangerous invasion well designed to separate and dismember the united Colonies.”

Hoover, understandably, never mentioned the atrocities committed. Many were executed after the battle. Nor did he mention that King’s Mountain was not a contest between redcoats and rebels, but brother against brother. The only British man present was Major Patrick Ferguson. His command was made up entirely of Loyalists. His second in command, Captain Abraham de Peyster, was from New York City.

Joseph Galloway
(courtesy of NYPL)

Few groups in American history are as forgotten as the Loyalists and few were as complex. They were a varied lot, often making up the highest in colonial society, including wealthy merchants and colonial officials. They often included the very lowest in the society, such as recent immigrants, slaves, indigenous, and subsistence farmers. Their ideology was in many ways not radically different from those who rebelled. They were generally not in favor of absolute monarchy or the supremacy of Parliament but simply favored union with Britain and slow reform. A few, such as Joseph Galloway, were part of early protests against British colonial policy, but were unwilling to jump into the chasm of revolution. Some, such as South Carolina merchant David Fanning, were merely aggrieved and sought to settle scores. Others were on the margins of society and saw the colonists, or at least the revolutionary colonial elite, as their real oppressors.

The Loyalists were at first spurned by the British high command. Major General William had over 30,000 men under his command in 1776 and Loyalists would have added to the logistical strain. He also thought a soft war policy that he hoped would induce the colonies to return, and therefore it was reasonable to avoid civil war. Yet, by 1777 the British were using some Loyalist regiments. They would fight in John Burgoyne’s ill-fated drive on Albany and served as rangers at Brandywine.

Continue reading “The First American Civil War”

Review: Anatomy of a Massacre: The Destruction of Gnadenhutten, 1782, by Eric Sterner

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes back guest historian Gabe Neville.

In his first book, Anatomy of a Massacre: The Destruction of Gnadenhutten, 1782, Eric Sterner has taken on a difficult subject. Racial violence is something many writers would shy away from while others might delight in the chance to condemn the perpetrators. Mr. Sterner, laudably, does neither. Instead, he seeks to understand what happened.

It is worth noting that the first known massacre of Indians by white men in what is now the United States occurred long before the events in the book. It happened near Jamestown, Virginia in 1610 when Virginia’s governor, Thomas West, 3rd Baron de la Warr, ordered an attack on the Paspahegh Band of Powhatans. Seventy men attacked the village, killing between 65 and 75 Paspaheghs and kidnapping the village leader’s wife and children. Rowing away, the colonists decided to kill the children, “w[hi]ch was effected by Throweinge them overboard and shoteinge owtt their Braynes in the water.” Three centuries of violence ensued.[1]

Lord de la Warr’s name appears frequently in Mr. Sterner’s story. His name was given to the Delaware River, which in turn lent its name to the Lenape people who have long been known to English speakers as the Delaware Tribe. Mr. Sterner has provided the definitive account of the worst atrocity of the Revolutionary War. In 1782 more than eighty white settlers clubbed, killed, and scalped ninety-six peaceful, Christian Indians as they prayed and sang hymns. The attack on the Moravian mission town of Gnadenhutten (Ohio) was intended as both a punitive and preemptive strike, conducted by settlers whose families and farms had been targeted by other Indians acting as proxies of the British. It is a horrific story that has defied understanding until now.

Histories of conflict between Native and European Americans have often served us poorly, reducing one or both sides to caricatures. Earlier histories, written by white men, put a finger on the scale of historical interpretation such that Indian atrocities were called “massacres” while white atrocities were called “battles” or “raids.” In the last half of the 20th century, the finger moved to the other side of the scale. Territorial expansion, the introduction of Old World diseases, missionary activity, the presumption of Manifest Destiny, and acts of violence large and small were braided together into a narrative of premeditated genocide.

These approaches reveal the eras and ideologies of their writers. More problematic is both schools tendency to gloss over of the complexity of frontier culture. The Gnadenhutten Massacre is not a cowboys-and-Indians story of “white” and “red” men exchanging bullets and arrows. It is far more complicated than that, with many of its actors desiring little more than their own survival. Though never stated, Mr. Sterner’s approach seems inspired by the axiom: “Don’t judge a man until you have walked a mile in his shoes.” The original expression, appropriately enough, referred to walking “a mile in his moccasins.”

The people in Mr. Sterner’s story can certainly be categorized as “whites” and “Indians,” and for narrative purposes two of the book’s chapters align with these groupings. Still, though racism is an important element of the story, there is plenty to suggest that skin color was not the only matter at issue. The two most prominent white characters –John Heckewelder and David Zeisberger—were Moravian missionaries who lived for decades among the Indians and were wholly dedicated to their welfare. Other whites, British agents, were Indian allies. The killers at Gnadenhutten were white, but acted independently and in defiance of government authority. On the Native American side, the Delaware, Shawnee, Wyandot, and Iroquois tribes were distinct political entities with different alliances, histories, and leaders. Even within these tribes, individual bands (what the author calls “phratries”) disagreed with each other, sometimes sharply, on military and political questions. Some were allied with the British and some with the Americans. The victims at Gnadenhutten were—though Indians—also pious, hymn-singing Christians. The white perpetrators behaved in a decidedly un-Christian manner despite their heritage. History, it turns out, was just as full of contradictions as the present is.

European-American settlers could indeed be brutal, as the events at Gnadenhutten show. Indians could also be ruthless. The first known massacre perpetrated by North American Indians was committed long before Europeans arrived on the continent. The tactic later employed by American armies of destroying villages and burning crops was first used by Indians against the colonists around Jamestown in 1622. Further complexity is found in the fact that even the line between “whites” and “Indians” was sometimes blurred. The Indian victims of the Gnadenhutten Massacre were Christians who dressed and lived much as Europeans did. Conversely, Indian armies—notably at the 1774 Battle of Point Pleasant—sometimes had white warriors among them. These were typically men who had been kidnapped as children and adopted into Indian society.

Mr. Sterner takes a dispassionate, investigatory approach to his work. It is refreshingly free of grand economic or social theories. He seeks to comprehend the events as those involved comprehended them and shows little interest in passing judgment. Instead, he seeks to “walk” a mile in their shoes and moccasins. In doing so, he respectfully refers to Natives by the Indian names, uncynically takes the faith of the Moravians at face value, and justly illustrates the terrors experienced by settlers on the frontier. Each of these groups is examined in its own chapter. Then, in his fourth and final chapter, Mr. Sterner tells us what happened at Gnadenhutten. By then the reader is left struggling to reconcile his or her outrage with the realization that what happened was likely inevitable.

The chance to experience this tension between the world that was and the world that ought to have been is a gift to Mr. Sterner’s readers. Conceiving of a world as it ought to have been is easy. Understanding it as it actually was is much harder. Period accounts indicate that even the perpetrators of the massacre wrestled with this tension in real time. One of them, after executing a dozen Moravian Indians, “sat down and cried because he found in it no satisfaction for his murdered wife and children.” Another whose family had been killed by Indians sat down by the river bank and burst into tears, crying, “You know I couldn’t help it!”[2]

Anatomy of a Massacre could have had an epilogue. Shortly after the events at Gnadenhutten, Col. William Crawford was captured and cruelly tortured to death by Delaware tribesmen as payback for the massacre. Crawford had played no part in the earlier atrocity, but men under his command had. Mr. Sterner has written about Crawford’s death for Emerging Revolutionary War and no doubt made a considered decision to let the Gnadenhutten story stand on its own.

The last “massacre” of American Indians occurred in 1911 in Nevada, when state police killed eight members of Mike Daggett’s Band of Shoshones, whom they were pursuing for horse theft and murder. This “Battle of Kelly Creek” occurred three hundred and one years after the massacre of the Paspahegh Band of Powhatans near Jamestown and closed the book on three centuries of racial violence between Native and European Americans. It is a cringe-inducing history, to be sure.

Mr. Sterner’s book suggests two lessons. First is that we should not blame atrocities so much on the perpetrators’ culture and demographics but rather on the killers themselves and on human nature. Culture matters, but people in every culture will do terrible things in terrible circumstances. Second is that we cannot substitute a cartoonish caricature of history for the nuanced reality of what really happened. The consequence of dumbed-down history is not a partial understanding but rather a false understanding. The Moravian Indians and missionaries lived in villages that were both physically and figuratively between two cultures. Though neutral, family and social ties to the war’s combatants remained and neither side could accept or understand them as a unique group. That led the Wyandots and British-allied Delaware to forcibly relocate them, and it motivated the settlers led by David Williamson to kill them.

An analogous refusal to understand the past for what it really was does a different kind of “violence” to history. Mr. Sterner’s book provides hope that historians can in fact focus on real history, avoiding the polemics and theorizing that characterizes so much academic writing. Like Glenn Williams, author of Dunmore’s War, Mr. Sterner seeks to trace the course of events and to understand the subjects of his work as they understood themselves. It’s good history.


Sources:

[1] George Percy, “’A Trewe Relaycon:’ Virginia from 1609 to 1612,” Tyler’s Quarterly, 3 (1921-1922): 259-282, 272. “Weroance” was a title for a “sub-chief” or a village leader.

[2] Eric Sterner, Anatomy of a Massacre: The Destruction of Gnadenhutten, 1782 (Yardley, Pa: Westholme, 2020), 148.

Leveling, Pointing, and Elevating Field Guns

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes back guest historian Karl G. Elsea

If you want to know the process of how field guns were fired in a battle such as Trenton or Monmouth, watching the National Park Service or re-enactors fire a cannon, you will only get part of the story. Important parts of the procedure are almost always missing. Here is a more complete presentation of the process; and, how leveling, pointing (aiming), and elevating a field gun were performed.

Major William Congreve said it best in his instructional training works at the Royal Military Repository in the late 1700’s: “It is of the utmost Consequence to the Service to fire so as to do Execution, for Shot flying over the Enemies head only hardens them and discourages your own Troops.” “Rounds must never be fired with-out pointing the Gun carefully each time and paying great attention to the Elevation.”[i]

After the commands, unlimber piece (un-attach the gun from the limber), take off apron (remove the vent cover), take out tompion (remove the “plug” at the muzzle of the gun), the gunners would perform the following activity with-out a specific command. This was a critical function and is not usually shown when firing a gun. It was to level the piece. As stated in their training, “and which ever Wheel stands too high, the Earth must be loosened in the rear, and the Gun drawn gently back until the Bubble rest in the Center of the Tube.”[ii] The science was simple, the trunnions on the barrel must be level or the barrel will move in a non-vertical plane and thus be off target. Leveling the gun was of great importance. The Artillerist’s Companion 1778 states it was an artillerist’s function, “Quadrating a piece [barrel] mounted, is to see whether it be directly placed, and equally poised in the carriage, which may be found by a gunner’s instrument called a level or perpendicular.”[iii]

The following picture shows what was called the Gunner’s level or the Spirit Level. It was the quintessential instrument carried by gunners to level the gun. In a cylinder in the middle of the gunner’s level was a vial and when the trunnions are level the bubble in the vial will be in the middle. At that point the gun was leveled.

(Author’s Level and Photograph)

The next activity was sometimes required to point the gun and it also required the Gunner’s Level. The level could be used to place a noticeable mark indicating the top of the base ring and the top of the muzzle ring. These two marks constitute what was called the “centre” [center] line of the cannon. The activity of marking the “centre” line was performed immediately after leveling the cannon unless the points or the line were already marked on the cannon. This line on the barrel was called the “gun metal line.” On many of the guns of the period the metal line marks were discretely engraved into the design on the barrel. For example, on this patriot cast Byers’ gun the base ring line, touch hole, and liberty pole mark one end of the “gun metal line.”

After these tasks (leveling and marking) were complete the gun was ready for pointing (aiming).  With regards to the Patriot’s drill, there was a distinct difference between the primary source drills of William Stevens and Louis de Tousard. Stevens records that “Take Aim” happens after the command “Prime.”[iv] In Tousard’s drill “Take Aim” takes place before “Prime.”[v] There was a reason for these differences, and it depended on how the gun was primed. The use of a priming tube, whether tin, reed, or quill, could potentially block the sighting line. Tousard’s drill avoided this problem by sighting before the priming tube was inserted. It should be noted the centre line passed over the touch hole. It was noteworthy that the British drill specifically mentions pointing before the tube was inserted into the touch hole. The British drills for a six-pounder stated, “The man who serves the Vent … not put the tube in until the Gun is pointed.”[vi] With regards to Steven’s drill, the priming likely consisted of using powder to touch off the charge, thus the “take aim” command could take place after priming. Using powder only to prime did not block the sighting line. Tousard’s drill assumed tubes were used in priming. British and Patriots used tubes as the preferred manor in priming field guns.

(Author’s Photograph)

Last came the task of elevating the gun barrel. The need for proper elevation of the barrel was demonstrated by noting the psychological impact of cannon fire as shown in the following contemporary quote, “it having been often proved that Soldiers have been more alarmed and put in confusion, by seeing Shot hopping to them, than by having double the Number of their Comrades killed by their sides without seeing it.”[vii] That quote showed the importance for shot to land and bounce somewhat in front of the soldiers. Elevation was adjusted to accomplish that task.

For elevation the gunners would know their individual piece and the characteristics concerning how the various types of shot with varying powder charges would fall. The Officers would likely have some recordation measuring the needed elevation for the distance to first graze. First graze was the range at which the shot would first touch the ground. That recordation would allow the gunners to know what elevation to use for their barrel.

The gunners would also know what the dispart (half the difference between the diameter of the base ring and muzzle ring) was for their individual gun. Dispart was the key to understanding that aiming the gun on the centre line automatically elevates the barrel. Dispart could be quickly measured in the field by placing the vent pick into the touch hole until it reached the bottom, and then subtract that measurement taken at the muzzle from the bottom of the tube to the top of the muzzle ring. As noted above, when the cannon was aimed using the centre line (“gun metal line”) then the resulting cannon ball strike on level ground was called the “Common range.”  Common range was different from “point blank range” which was the distance when a cannon ball first touches ground when fired from a level barrel on level ground.

There was an exception to aiming and elevating the gun. The exception was if a gun were to be overrun. British training materials stated, “Case Shot may be fired as quick as the Dragropemen can draw the Gun up to its proper Position in the Interval again, which will allow the Non Commissioned Officer a sufficient time to direct the Gun nearly to the Center of the Enemies Battalion and give a pretty good guess at the Elevation.”[viii]


[i] Adrian B. Caruana, The Light 6-Pdr. Battalion Gun of 1776, (Alexandria Bay, NY: Museum Restoration Service, 1993), 27.

[ii] Caruana,33.

[iii] T. Fortune, The Artillerist’s Companion 1778, (London: Whitehall, 1993), (Alexandria Bay, NY: Museum Restoration Service, 1992), 9.

[iv] William Stevens, A System for the Discipline of the Artillery of the United States of America, (New York: William A. Davis, 1797), 68.

[v] Louis de Tousard, Artillerist’s Companion on Elements of Artillery, (Philadelphia: C and A Conrad and Co., 1809), 140-141.

[vi] Adrian B. Caruana, The Light 6-Pdr. Battalion Gun of 1776, (Alexandria Bay, NY: Museum Restoration Service, 1993), 29.

[vii] Caruana, 27.

[viii] Caruana, 27.