The Greatest Leaders of the American Revolution You Have Never Heard Of

When a historian, author, or student of the American Revolutionary War mentions the following three words, “Green Mountain Boys” there is usually one name that comes to the forefront.

Seth Warner is usually not that name. Yet, he is one of the two names that should be forever linked with the great history of the “Green Mountain Boys.”

For those that are drawing a blank, the other name usually associated with this famous unit is Ethan Allen.

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Seth Warner Statue (courtesy of The Monument & Markers of Vermont; http://historicsites.vermont.gov/)

Warner, born in hilly Woodbury, Connecticut on May 17, 1743, the fourth of ten children to Dr. Benjamin Warner and Silence Hurd Warner. The young Seth was a product of the western frontier, growing up on the fringes of the English world, and thus learning from an early age to live and survive in the woods, rivers, and hills of Connecticut and what would become Vermont.

He did attend what limited schooling was available and from his father, rudimentary medical practice. In an 18th century biography, Warner was remembered to have vast information on the nature and uses of indigenous plants.

During the French and Indian War, Warner served two summers fighting in the cause of the British and would serve as a captain in the “Green Mountain Boys” following the French and Indian War. One biography states that Warner was part of the famous ranger outfit known as Major Roger’s Rangers, yet there is no primary evidence that supports this biographical claim.

With war on the horizon following the action at Lexington and Concord, Warner was elected third in command, with Ethan Allen being elected in top command, on May 8, 1775 for the task of capturing Fort Ticonderoga in western New York.

Born where Native American still threatened the westward-minded colonists, with the training during two summers in the last major war on the American Continent, Warner would now play a major role in the upcoming American Revolution.

With that, Seth Warner and the “Green Mountain Boys” marched off to help make the dream of American independence a reality. Following Ethan Allen, Warner found himself embroiled in the first campaign outside the environs of Boston when on May 10, 1775 he took part in the American capture of Fort Ticonderoga in western New York. Following up the next day, Warner, serving as second-in-command, attacked and captured the British garrison at Crown Point, approximately 13 miles away from Fort Ticonderoga.  When news broke of the exploit, the “Green Mountain Boys” and subsequently Warner quickly became a household name for the patriot cause.

With the turn of the season to summer, Allen and Warner appeared in Philadelphia to appeal directly to the Continental Congress. Their aim was to achieve recognition as a regiment for the “Green Mountain Boys.” On June 23, 1775, the day the two men appeared in front of the governing body of the American cause, the Congress agreed and sent the endorsement to the state of New York. After some debate in provincial Congress of the Empire State, the endorsement was finally agreed upon.

With the ensuing vote of officers, surprisingly, Allen was not elected as commander, but Warner survived in an officer capacity, garnering 41 of 46 votes for lieutenant colonel. No reason or notes from this convention, held on July 6, 1775 has ever surfaced.

Before 1775 was out, Warner, who would lead the command, found themselves on the way to Canada. Initially stationed along the St. Lawrence River on the way to Montreal and near the end of October, Warner’s men repulsed an amphibious landing and attack by Sir Guy Carleton, the British Governor-General of Canada. With the repulse, at the Battle of Longeuill led to the surrender of Fort St. John on November 3, 1775.

Ten days later Montreal fell to the American forces and Warner and his “Green Mountain Boys” entered the fallen city later that same day. The American commander, General Richard Montgomery wanted this crack unit to continue with him by canoe to Quebec but because of the lack of winter clothing, the command was forced to head south, for supplies.

Not to stay in a support role for long, Warner’s men marched north shortly after the turn of the year in January 1776 to reinforce the Americans laying siege to Quebec. While there Warner showed the depth of his concern for the welfare of his men. With the smallpox epidemic ravaging the American ranks–in fact more American soldiers would die of that disease than any single other cause–Warner allowed his men to be inoculated, which was not not akin to what inoculations are like today.

Click this link, courtesy of Mount Vernon, on what smallpox inoculation was like in Colonial America.

After the return from Canada, on July 5, 1776, Warner was elevated to the rank of colonel and tasked with raising another regiment from the New Hampshire Grants (the area now comprising Vermont). Yet, it was one year and one day later that Warner showed how valuable his role as a general officer was.

During the Battle of Hubbardton, Warner oversaw the rearguard of General Arthur St. Clair’s retreating American forces. Outside this frontier settlement, Warner’s men suffered more casualties and eventually yielded the field to the British, but the toll extracted from the British (over 200 killed, wounded, and captured) was high enough to cause the British to stop their pursuit of the retreating American army.

A month later, on August 16, 1777, Warner played another critical role in the American victory at Bennington. Under the overall command of General John Stark–another of the fiery, yet competent, and overlooked American general officers–Warner provided invaluable assistance because of his familiarity with the region. His home was a scant few miles from where the engagement would unfold.

Warner would oversee the left wing of the American assault and have as his goal the “Tory Redoubt” that fell on the east side of the Walloomsac River, which would be a dominant feature in the ensuing battle.

benington
Battle of Bennington (courtesy of British Battles)

The Americans routed the German, British, and Loyalist forces, even halting a 600-man reinforcement column under German Lieutenant Colonel Heinrich Breymann who arrived on the field in the latter stages.

Stark reported to Congress that Warner showed “superior skill in the action.”

Unbeknownst to Warner at the time, the campaign that culminated with British General John Burgoyne’s surrender at Saratoga, was the defining moment in Warner’s American Revolutionary War career. Warner would stay in the service, reaching the rank of brigadier general, bestowed upon him in 1778 by the new state of Vermont courtesy of the state legislature. That made him the only brigadier general in the newly formed state. On September 6, 1780 Warner received his only wound of the war, in an ambush by Native Americans outside Fort George in New York.

Unfortunately for the old “Green Mountain Boys” commander, the years after his retirement in 1780 were not kind. He fell out of favor with his former commander, Ethan Allen which led Warner to confront him in 1781 about contact with the British when Allen was a prisoner-of-war. This was all in conjunction with some contact Vermont had with British Canada about possible negotiations in reunifying Vermont with the British Empire. The extent of the negotiations and the seriousness of the idea has been in question by historians ever since.

Regardless, Warner, in failing health in 1784, returned to Woodbury, where he died on December 26, 1784, at the age of 41. Warner’s remains lay in Roxbury, Connecticut.

 

*For more information on the campaigns of New York in which Warner played a role in, consult Michael O. Logusz’s two-volume “With Musket and Tomahawk” series published by Savas Beatie LLC. at http://www.savasbeatie.com*

How Did They Communicate?

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes guest historian Robert “Bert” Dunkerly to the blog as the author of this post. 

It is well known that German troops (commonly called Hessians) fought alongside the British during the war.  One of the more intriguing questions of the Revolution remains; how did they communicate?  At any given time, German units could comprise from one third to one half of the larger British armies. They were also present in equal numbers in smaller detachments.

French was a common language that many European officers would have known, and there is evidence that German and English officers communicated in French during campaigns.  The language barrier also impacted daily army operations.  For example, Georg Pausch of the Hesse-Hanau Artillery requested an English officer who spoke German for a court martial.   Yet most of that procedure was conducted in French.

Written orders from General Phillips in Montreal in 1777 to Hessian Artillery units were given in French, suggesting that this was commonly done in these calm, routine situations.

It wasn’t a perfect system but it worked well enough. Adjutant General Major Bauermister of Hesse-Cassel, for example, notes that the English spoke poor French, when communicating with them. Yet what about among small units like companies or battalions?

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Re-enactors portraying the Hesse Kassel Jaeger Korps
Would mediocre command of a language suffice for communication in combat situations?  Often small groups of British and German troops operated together on patrols or raids.  Marching to Freeman’s Farm (Saratoga) in 1777 was a column that included Germans on the left, English on the right, and English troops as flankers. Such situations required close coordination.

Other times they were side by side on battlefields, such as at the Battle of Guilford Courthouse in 1781, where the German Von Bose Regiment was aligned next to the British 71st Highland Regiment. Close coordination in these cases was essential.

Still another example is from Brandywine, where Captain Johann Ewald wrote that in the army’s advance, were 60 jaegers on foot, fifteen mounted jaegers, a company of Highlanders, and a company of British light infantry.  All these troops worked in tandem to protect the army from ambush and clear the way for the advance. Yet Ewald was silent on how they did so.

Captain Ewald, also wrote of his experiences in Virginia, where, in the advance on Richmond, small numbers of troops were interspersed.   They marched into the town in this order: Jaegers, British dragoons, more jaegers, and British Light Infantry.  There are dozens of other examples.

Despite the many instances of German and British units mingling, there is precious little documentary evidence of how officers, or the common soldiers, communicated.  Perhaps they used a combination of French, translators who spoke either English or German, and hand signals or other agreed- upon methods.

Timing and clarity are key in close quarters combat, there is no chance to second guess in an ambush or a raid. There were likely instances of misunderstanding that may have led to mistakes and even led to friendly fire incidents.

Of the many accounts this author has researched, only a few mention how they communicated. Perhaps it was something so mundane, or so well understood, that they saw no need to comment on it in their writings. It is hoped that further research will shed light on this question.

An Introduction to the 8th, or “King’s,” Regiment of Foot

Part One

In May of 1768, six years before a column of their peers would march out for Concord, a British Army regiment embarked for North America to relieve the 15th Regiment on duty in Canada. These soldiers crossing the Atlantic would not see home again for the next seventeen years, many never would at all. In their nearly two decades abroad, these soldiers would participate in raids and expeditions ranging from the Mohawk Valley to present-day St. Louis; center-stage in the political and military game on the frontier of the American Revolution. These soldiers were the men of the 8th, or King’s, Regiment of Foot.

The 8th was one of the British Army’s most senior regiments, being formed in 1685 as the “Princess Anne of Denmark’s Regiment of Foot” during the Monmouth Rebellion. The regiment went on to serve illustriously during the first Jacobite Rising. Winning the favor of King George I, they earned his namesake and were granted “royal” status in 1716. The regiment saw combat in the War of Austrian Succession, and also played a crucial part in the 1746 Battle of Culloden in another Jacobite rebellion.

Morier
Grenadiers of the 7th, 8th, and 9th Regiments of Foot. Painted by David Morier, ca. 1751-1760

In 1751, the army numbered its regiments by seniority, thus the King’s also became known as the 8th. The newly-named 8th Regiment again saw action, this time during the Seven Years’ War. After enjoying a dignified service record for almost a century in Europe, the regiment was on its way to honor itself for the first time on another continent – North America.

The regiment arrived in the summer of 1768 in the St. Lawrence River, landing at the Isle of Orleans. The regiment then deployed to Quebec, Montreal, St. John’s, Fort Chambly, and the surrounding posts. After six years of duty in Canada, the regiment was reassigned. This time, the regiment was to relieve the 10th Regiment deployed to the “Upper Posts,” a string of fortifications and outposts from Oswego to Detroit that protected the interior of the continent.

The 10th, probably eager to leave the frontier and return to England, was rerouted to Boston where tensions were rising. Although nobody knew it yet, the 10th would soon take part in the march to Lexington and Concord on that fateful April morning. While the 10th sailed toward their destiny, the 8th settled into their new home in the wilderness.

The companies of the King’s were spread out much like the order of the “line of battle,” the traditional model for organizing companies on the European battlefield. However, instead of companies packed tightly together on one field, the companies were dispersed over some 400 miles. One of the regiment’s two flank companies, the light infantry company, garrisoned Oswegatchie on the banks of the St. Lawrence. The other flank company, the grenadier company, and one of the eight battalion companies garrisoned the westernmost post at Fort Michilimackinac where British civilization ended and the wilderness began. The remaining seven battalion companies garrisoned the major hubs of British trade on the Great Lakes, Fort Niagara (four) and Detroit (three).

8th Belt Plate and Button
A belt plate and button of the 8th Regiment of Foot. Notice the “Ks” as an abbreviation for “King’s” on the button.

As the winter of 1774/75 slowly passed, the men of the King’s most likely made every attempt to escape the harsh winters on the Great Lakes by their fires, unknowing of the blaze that would come in the spring and engulf their world for the next eight years.

Winter, 1777

Part Three

On February 23, 1778, Baron Friedrich Wilhelm von Steuben arrived at the Continental Army encampment at Valley Forge.  He quickly ingratiated himself with George Washington and the commanding general’s cadre of staff officers. John Laurens would write a fortnight later;

baron von steuben
Baron von Steuben

“The Baron Steuben has had the fortune to please uncommonly….All the genl officers who have seen him, are prepossessed in his favor, and conceive highly of his abilities… The General [Washington] seems to have a very good opinion of him, and thinks he might be usefully employed in the office of inspector general…”

Steuben would assume the “acting” inspector general position three days after John Laurens penned the above letter, on March 12, 1778. Five days later, Steuben’s plan to train the Continental Army was approved by Washington. The transformation could begin.

Who was this “acting” soon-to-be permanent inspector general of the Continental Army? Steuben was born on September 17, 1730 in the Duchy of Magdeburg, in what is now eastern Germany. He journeyed with his father at age 14 on his first military campaign and joined the military at the young age of 17.

The last thirteen years before coming to America he had served in an administrative capacity for the Furst Josef Friedrich Wilhelm of Hohenzollern-Hechingen and was made a baron in 1771.

The baron arrived on American soil on December 1, 1777 and two months later arrived in York, Pennsylvania where he met with the Continental Congress on February 5, 1778. He found his way quickly to Washington’s encampment at Valley Forge.

On March 19, 1778, the first squad of men from the Continental Army undertook their first lesson with the baron. After learning the English words needed, von Steuben tasked each soldier of the 100 man squad to mirror him. The selected squad would follow the different maneuvers while listening to the baron “singing out the cadence.” While the squad went through their drills, another selected squad of onlookers studied the movements and then carried the drills to others.

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Edwin Austin Abbey painting of von Steuben and the drilling of American soldiers at Valley Forge

The baron’s unique training regimens showed almost instant results, as von Steuben attested within a fortnight of the start of training. The soldiers “were perfect in their manual exercise; had acquired a military air; and knew how to march, to form column, to deploy, and to execute some little maneuvers with admirable precision.”

By the end of March, with Washington’s blessing, the entire army went under the drill regimen as instructed by von Steuben. The Prussian “acting” inspector general put his mark on all aspects of camp life as evidenced by the routine the soldiers adhered to while becoming acquainted with the manual of arms. “At nine a.m….new commands explained to each regiment at parade, then practice. By late afternoon, regiments were practicing by brigades.”

When a soldier fumbled a maneuver or the squad was not crisply moving through the drills, the baron’s temper would get the best of him and he would unleash a slew of epithets that was a unique blend of French and German with a few words of English sprinkled in for good measure.

The silver lining in these outbursts occurred when the baron would politely and calmy ask one of his assistant to translate into English the curse word of the moment. A light-hearted moment came when von Stueben asked his translator one time to, “come and swear for me in English, these fellows won’t do what I bid them.”

However, von Steuben won the trust of his trainees, as he instilled a sense of pride, of soldierly bearing, and when he did have his outbursts, those moments just underscored his similarities to the men he was training. As one biographer accurately summed up these occasions, the outbursts “humanized him” in the eyes of the rank-and-file.

There was one little secret that only the baron and his small staff were privy too; von Steuben was making up the drill and routine practices employed each day as he went along!

After the drilling of that day was completed and the baron snatched a quick bite to eat, von Steuben was off to his quarters where he scribbled out the lessons to be taught the following day.

Along with drill, camp life even improved, as von Steuben mandated changes that improved camp sanitation, which in turn, reduced sickness among the rank and file. By the end of the encampment, von Steuben controlled, according to historian Herman O. Benninghoff II, “the Valley Forge soldier’s introduction to command and control.”

On April 1, 1778, John Laurens wrote to his father and president of the Continental Congress, Henry Laurens about the major impact of von Steuben.

john laurens
John Laurens, aide to George Washington during the Valley Forge encampment

“Baron Steuben is making sensible progress with our soldiers. The officers seem to have a high opinion of him…It would enchant you to see the enlivened scene [of camp at Valley Forge]…If Mr. [Sir William] Howe opens the campaign with his usual deliberation, we shall be infinitely better prepared to meet him than we have ever.”

By May 1778 a Board of War member, a committee formed by the Continental Congress the previous year, wrote to a fellow board member the following lines, “America will be under lasting Obligations to the Baron Steuben as the Father of it. He is much respected by the Officers and beloved by the Soldiers themselves…I am astonished at the Progress he has made with the Troops.”

A fitting compliment came from the pen of George Washington who wrote to von Steuben near the end of the encampment at Valley Forge that “the army has derived every advantage from the institution under you, that could be expected in so short a time.”

Before von Steuben could finish the drilling of the soldiery that winter, the British stirred from their perch in Philadelphia and the lessons on the snowy plains of Valley Forge would be put to the test.

Winter, 1777

Part Two

In the lowest depths of one of the coldest winters in the American Revolution, the Continental Army uncovered the dedication that the core of the military movement had.

Suffering was beyond comparison.

The cause was supply, the crux of many an army before and after the Revolutionary War. The issue started from the top, the quartermaster general position.

“The lack of a competent, effective quartermaster general for the period from October 10, 1777 to May 2, 1778 threatened the Continental Army’s existence more than the enemy” wrote author and historian Herman O. Benninghoff, II.

His bold proclamation is chillingly on-point.

That time frame coincided with the approximately same length of time George Washington’s forces were at Valley Forge.

Nathanael Greene would become Quartermaster General in March 1778 during the encampment at Valley Forge
Nathanael Greene would become Quartermaster General in March 1778 during the encampment at Valley Forge

On January 5, 1778, Nathanael Greene, who would soon be tapped as quartermaster general of the Continental Army, wrote to fellow officer General Alexander McDougall;

“The troops are worn out with fatigue, badly fed, and almost naked. There are and have been thousands of the Army without shoes for months past. It is difficult to get sufficient supplies to cloath the Army at large.”

Moving directly to Valley Forge from active campaigning, the soldiers arrived with their supplies in a deplorable condition. Shoes had been torn to shreds with the long marches and many of the men had nothing but rags to wrap feet in. Shortly after arriving, the army numbered approximately 12,000 men under arms, yet 4,000 of these men, 1/3rd of Washington’s entire force, was deemed “unfit for duty” because a lack of supplies.

Another 1,100 would desert because of the horrid conditions of the winter encampment; no food, no pay, and barely clothes to keep warm.

Another 2,000 died of disease, including typhus, pneumonia, and other “camp fevers” which categorized a whole assortment of various ailments. Medicine was almost non-existent and lack of proper sanitation played a major role as well.

A delegate to the Confederation Congress was informed by an informant in Valley Forge that “a great portion of the soldiers are in a very suffering condition for want of necessary clothing, and totally unfit for duty.”

The suffering of the soldiers for a want of simple, basic clothing, becomes even more painful with the following realization by John Marshall, serving as an officer at Valley Forge, and the same Marshall who would become the Supreme Court Justice.

“In a desert which supplies not the means of subsistence, or in a garrison where food is unattainable, courage, patriotism, and habits of discipline, enable the soldier…..but to perish in a country abounding with provisions, requires something more than fortitude.”

One artist's depiction of what the encampment at Valley Forge looked like
One artist’s depiction of what the encampment at Valley Forge looked like

That is what is most astonishing, that there were surpluses to be attained, but Continental currency had depreciated to the point that by late 1777 and early 1778 it was at an exchange rate of four Continental dollars to one dollar of hard specie. By 1779 that ratio would be 30 to 1.

To further complicate matters, the Continental Army did not even have the wagons to gather the materials. In mid-February, a report from camp to Henry Laurens, president of the Confederate Congress, deplored of the “want of Waggons & the like.”

Out of the depths of this despair, where cries of “No Meat, No Meat” rent the air as soldiers voice their frustration, came a self-proclaimed baron.

This man would leave a lasting impression on the make-up of the army, second only to George Washington.

His assessment of the army upon his arrival amazed him, the “fortitude of the common soldiers and that no army in Europe would hold together and endure under such deprivations of food and clothing and shelter.”

That prognosis shows the depth of commitment that boiled in the hearts of the dedicated survivors of the cold, hunger, and privations of Valley Forge.

The army was ready to be molded and with his arrival,  Baron Friedrich Wilhelm von Steuben would turn out to be the right guy at the right juncture in time. The Continental Army, held together by George Washington, would be transformed by this new inspector general.

Valley Forge would be the elixir of change for the army and the revolution.

James Monroe at the Battle of Trenton

Washington Crossing the Delaware, by Emanuel Gottlieb Leutze The Metropolitan Museum of Art, http://www.metmuseum.org
Washington Crossing the Delaware, by Emanuel Gottlieb Leutze
The Metropolitan Museum of Art, http://www.metmuseum.org

One of the iconic images of the Revolutionary War is Emanuel Gottlieb Leutze’s 1851 painting, Washington Crossing the Delaware.  It is the night of December 25, 1776.  The Continental Army is being transported across the Delaware River to attack a Hessian garrison at Trenton, New Jersey, some nine miles to the south.  In the foreground, anonymous men (and possibly one woman) of varying nationalities and races row an overloaded boat across the river, pushing great slabs of ice out of the way.  Two of the boat’s occupants are not anonymous: General George Washington, standing resolutely near the bow, and young Lieutenant James Monroe, holding the stars and stripes.

Leutze’s painting is glorious–and wrong in almost every detail.  The river resembles the Rhine more than the Delaware; the boat is too small and of inaccurate design; there is too much light for what was a night crossing; Washington did not cross standing up; the stars and stripes had not yet been adopted by the Continental Congress; and James Monroe was not holding the flag, not in the boat, and not even present with the army.

He was already across the river, and he was busy.

Washington’s plan for a surprise attack on Trenton was a risky attempt to reverse the sagging fortunes of the Patriot cause. During the summer of 1776 British forces, including Hessian mercenaries, had driven the Continental Army from New York across New Jersey and into Buck’s County, Pennsylvania.  Expired enlistments and outright desertion had thinned the American ranks, and many of those who remained were despondent.  Washington gambled that a successful attack against an isolated British outpost would boost the army’s morale and stiffen the resolve of Congress and the people.

Three Hessian regiments, comprising about 1,400 men, were stationed at Trenton under the command of Colonel Johann Rall (also spelled Rahl).  Washington planned to bring 2,400 Continental soldiers across the river overnight at McKonkey’s Ferry, march to Trenton, and attack before dawn.  Two other elements of the army were part of the plan.  A 1,900-man force under Colonel John Cadwalader would make a diversionary attack against British troops at Bordentown, New Jersey.  General James Ewing would lead 700 men across the Delaware at Trenton Ferry, control the bridge over Assunpink Creek, and intercept any Hessian troops retreating from Trenton.  Bad weather prevented both of these deployments, meaning that everything would depend on the main body’s effort.  The army’s password for the evening was “Victory or Death.”

Washington’s plan included sending a small detachment of troops over the Delaware first to secure the army’s route of march.  James Monroe was with this contingent.  In his autobiography (written in the third person late in life and not completed before his death), Monroe described the mission:

The command of the vanguard, consisting of 50 men, was given to Captain William Washington, of the Third Virginia Regiment . . . Lieutenant Monroe promptly offered his services to act as a subaltern under him, which was promptly accepted.  On the 25th of December, 1776, they passed the Delaware in front of the army, in the dusk of the evening, at [McKonkey’s] ferry, 10 miles above Trenton, and hastened to a point, about one and one-half miles from it, at which the road by which they descended intersected that which led from Trenton to Princeton, for the purpose, in obedience of orders, of cutting off all communication between them and from the country to Trenton.

Monroe noted that the night was “tempestuous,” and that snow was falling.  While manning their post, the detachment was accosted by a local resident who thought the Continentals were British troops.  Describing the incident many years later at a White House dinner during his presidency, Monroe recalled that the man, whose name was John Riker, was “determined in his manner and very profane.”  Upon learning that the soldiers were Americans, he brought food from his house and said to Monroe, “I know something is to be done, and I am going with you.  I am a doctor, and I may help some poor fellow.”  Dr. Riker proved remarkably prescient.

Battle of Trenton map courtesy George Washington’s Mount Vernon
Battle of Trenton map courtesy George Washington’s Mount Vernon

The main army’s river crossing and march to Trenton took longer than planned, meaning that the attack would occur well after sunup.  Outside the town Washington divided his force, sending a division commanded by Major General Nathaniel Greene to attack from the north while the other, led by Major General John Sullivan, attacked from the south.  At 8:00 AM the assault began, and here we return to Monroe’s account from his autobiography:

Captain Washington then moved forward with the vanguard in front, attacked the enemy’s picket, shot down the commanding officer, and drove it before him.  A general alarm then took place among the troops in town.  The drums were beat to arms, and two cannon were placed in the main street to bear on the head of our column as it entered.  Captain Washington rushed forward, attacked, and put the troops around the cannon to flight, and took possession of them. Moving on afterwards, he received a severe wound and was taken from the field. The command then devolved upon Lieutenant Monroe, who attacked in like manner at the head of the corps, and was shot down by a musket ball which passed through his breast and shoulder. He was also carried from the field.

The Capture of the Hessians at Trenton December 26 1776, by John Trumbull (Yale University Art Gallery) (James Monroe lies wounded on the ground at left center)
The Capture of the Hessians at Trenton December 26 1776, by John Trumbull (Yale University Art Gallery)
(James Monroe lies wounded on the ground at left center)

Monroe was brought to the same room where William Washington lay, and their wounds were dressed by the army’s surgeon general and Dr. John Riker.  Riker’s prediction of helping “some poor fellow” came true as he repaired a damaged artery in Monroe’s shoulder. What neither man realized at the time was that the intrepid physician had saved the life of a future president.

George Washington’s gamble in initiating the Battle of Trenton paid off.  The victory was complete, and came at a surprisingly small cost in terms of American casualties.  Two enlisted men froze to death during the nighttime march, and two were wounded in combat.  The only losses among officers were the nonfatal wounds sustained by William Washington and James Monroe.  Washington followed up his success at Trenton with another at Princeton on January 3, 1777, where the Continental Army proved that it could prevail over regular British troops.

The best commentary upon James Monroe’s performance at Trenton, and his Revolutionary War service generally, comes from no less an authority than George Washington.  Writing to an acquaintance in 1779, Washington noted Monroe’s “zeal he discovered by entering the service at an early period, the character he supported in his regiment, and the manner in which he distinguished himself at Trenton, where he received a wound.”  The general concluded that James Monroe had “in every instance maintained the reputation of a brave, active, and sensible officer.”

Scott H. Harris is the Executive Directors of the James Monroe Museum in Fredericksburg, Virginia. Harris became director of the James Monroe Museum and Memorial Library in July 2011, following ten years as director of the New Market Battlefield State Historical Park (administered by Virginia Military Institute).  From 1988 to 2001, Scott was the first curator of the Manassas Museum and later director of historic resources for the City of Manassas, Virginia.  Prior to his work in Manassas, he was a consulting historian with the Association for the Preservation of Virginia Antiquities in Richmond and an historical interpreter with the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation.  He has been a board member of the New Market Area Chamber of Commerce, Prince William County/Manassas Convention and Visitors Bureau, Shenandoah Valley Travel Association, and Virginia Civil War Trails, Inc.  He is a past president of the Virginia Association of Museums and serves as a peer reviewer for the Museum Assessment and Accreditation programs of the American Association of Museums.

Scott received his BA with honors in History and Historic Preservation from the University of Mary Washington in 1983.  In 1988, he received an MA in History and Museum Administration from the College of William and Mary. Scott is also a graduate of the Seminar for Historical Administration, the nation’s oldest advanced museum professional development program.

Daniel Boone

Full disclosure: Mr. Brown is a fan of the reviewer’s blog and I received a copy of the DVD for review purposes.

Kent Masterson Brown is likely known to many readers as an author and historian of the War Between the States. But Mr. Brown’s knowledge, interest and expertise in the field of American history is much broader than just his study of the Civil War. This is evident in his recent film project, Daniel Boone and the Opening of the American West. I recently viewed the film for the purpose of this review.

daniel boone coverThe docudrama is an in-depth look at Boone’s life and his impact on the American frontier and the settlement of Kentucky. There is also detailed information regarding the geography and natural history of Kentucky which I found quite fascinating. The DVD comes packaged as a 2 disc, 112 minute DVD and was produced by Witnessing History, LLC – a company led by Brown. This is the first full-length film on the life of Daniel Boone ever produced for television broadcast. The film includes an original score by composer Clark D. Cranfill which provides a perfect backdrop for the narrative. Numerous Boone scholars consulted on the film. Included in the film are original Boone documents and works of art.

Let me begin by stating that I thought I knew a little bit about one of the American frontier’s best known icons until I viewed this documentary. Born in 1958, I had the privilege of being introduced to Daniel Boone by the popular 1960’s TV series, “Daniel Boone.” I watched the show so many times growing up (and still on occasion) that I can still sing the show’s theme song! Though the 1964-1970 television production took quite a bit of literary license the series was, nonetheless, responsible for instilling an interest in, and love of, American history in many a young boy during that time period. I rarely missed an episode growing up and have purchased the series for my own grandsons.

While watching this latest production, I couldn’t help but chuckle about some of the misconceptions many Americans have about Boone due, perhaps, to that old TV series. Brown explodes some of those misconceptions in this project: Boone was not the first white man to explore or settle Kentucky (then part of Virginia). He did not care for coonskin caps and never wore one. He was court-martialed, refused an attorney, defended himself, was acquitted and then promoted. He never used tobacco and though he did not totally abstain from alcohol, he was never known to abuse its use. He was red-headed and fair-skinned. He had a deep and abiding faith in God. His reading and writing skills were largely self-taught. And he was, as Brown notes, “one of America’s most authentic and remarkable men.”

This effort by Witnessing History is the first documentary film of its kind about the life of one of America’s best known historical figures. Brown describes some aspects of this project:

The filming of action scenes of Boone’s early explorations of Kentucky, his first attempt at settlement, the Treaty of Sycamore Shoals, the opening of the Wilderness Road, the Revolutionary War in Kentucky and the Ohio Valley (including the sieges of Boonesborough, Ruddle’s Station and Bryan’s Station and the disastrous Battle of Blue Licks), and Boone’s later life as a surveyor, tavern keeper and even a legislator in Virginia were planned.

More than 100 actors and actresses were specially contacted to appear. The production was designed to be studded with magnificent scenes filmed in Pennsylvania, Virginia, Tennessee, North Carolina, Kentucky and Missouri, as Boone would have seen them, the traces, caves, springs, rivers, creeks, hills, and even dwellings and cemeteries.
Born in Reading, Pennsylvania in 1734 and (like so many of America’s early pioneers), of Scots-Irish stock, the film traces Boone’s life through America’s founding era, with the American Revolution as the backdrop, to his death in 1820 in Missouri. The film reveals that Boone was an intensely religious man and grew up in a Quaker family.

In addition to being instrumental in the settlement of Kentucky, Boone also helped establish Kentucky as the dominant horse-breeding state by presenting a bill in May of 1775 to “encourage the breeding of fine horse flesh.” To this day, horse-breeding and Kentucky are synonymous.

The film reminded me of the many hardships endured by the men, women and families that settled the American frontier—something so easy for modern Americans to forget. Particularly heart-wrenching is the film’s recounting of the death of Boone’s oldest son, James. Just 16, James and some companions were ambushed by a party of Shawnee Indians. Most of the party was killed, but James and one other member of the group were both paralyzed by the attack. They were then tortured for hours by the Shawnee. Their screams and cries could be heard for miles. Daniel Boone soon discovered the sad carnage and buried his son where he had been killed. Boone’s efforts to settle Kentucky had cost him his first-born son. It would not be his last sorrow as his brother would suffer a similar fate.

Daniel Boone Escorting Settlers through the Cumberland Gap (1851–52) by George Caleb Bingham.
Daniel Boone Escorting Settlers through the Cumberland Gap (1851–52) by George Caleb Bingham.

I found much of the scenery in the film breathtakingly beautiful, particularly the landscape of “the inner bluegrass” with its “sinks, sinkhole topography, sinking springs, sinking creeks and subterranean streams.” Much of that particular scenery, with its limestone formations, reminded me of my native Shenandoah Valley to which, interestingly enough, Boone also has a connection.

Brown’s knowledge of and love for his native Kentucky comes through in his narration of the film. This, in my mind, only makes the film more compelling and I found myself feeling as though I was actually standing in the landscape Brown so expertly and passionately describes.

Explorer, pioneer, folk hero, woodsman, frontiersman, militia officer during the Revolutionary War and surveyor; Daniel Boone was most assuredly, as Brown describes him, “one of America’s most authentic and remarkable men.”

The documentary was written, narrated and directed by Kent Masterson Brown. Full of historical nuggets and surprises, the film is as entertaining as it is educational. And though the documentary is 112 minutes, it moves along at a quick pace and it kept me interested the whole time I was watching. The closing few minutes of the film are quite poignant as Brown summarizes Boone’s life in few, but profound words. This is the way that history films should be done. In June of 2015, Daniel Boone and the Opening of the American West, won the coveted Telly Award. 

If you are, as I am, a fan of Brown’s work or if you’re interested in learning something about Daniel Boone you didn’t know, I highly recommend this film and give it 5 out of 5 stars. It really is that good.

Note: If you are an Amazon Prime member, you can watch several of Witnessing History’s other projects for free, as part of your membership. Unfortunately, the Boone project is not one of them. 

Richard G. Williams Jr., is a writer and the author of four books and numerous articles and essays related to the Civil War. His latest, The Battle of Waynesboro, (The History Press, 2014), was part of The History Press’s Sesquicentennial Series. He’s also written three essays for The Essential Civil War Curriculum which is an online Sesquicentennial project at the Virginia Center for Civil War Studies at Virginia Tech. Williams serves on the Board of Trustees for the National Civil War Chaplains Museum in Lynchburg, VA and blogs at oldvirginiablog.blogspot.com. He writes from the Shenandoah Valley.

Winter, 1777

Part One, of a series on the importance of Valley Forge in the American Revolution

On December 19, 1777, the Continental Army, under the command of General George Washington, marched into Valley Forge, Pennsylvania. Located approximately 20 miles from Philadelphia, which had fallen to the British that autumn, Washington’s army would spend the next five-plus months in this soon-to-be iconic place in the quest for American independence.

Yet, the accounts of how desperate the condition of the American forces were emanates throughout the centuries and strikes awe and amazement at the level of perseverance that the soldiers committed to. The winter of Valley Forge was just one of many cold, bleak, and destitute winters that the Continental Army faced during the seven-year conflict.

Artist depiction of the encampment at Valley Forge. George Washington and the Marquis de Lafayette are the two horsemen
Artist depiction of the encampment at Valley Forge. George Washington and the Marquis de Lafayette are the two horsemen depicted prominently

However, that does not take away from the conditions of that winter. Especially when written from the ink and quill or pencil of the common soldier. Especially with what that winter cantonment did in the transformation of that Continental Army.

One of the best remembrances of that cold winter comes from Joseph Plumb Martin, whose Memoir of a Revolutionary Soldier, is still in print today.

Upon arrival at Valley Forge, Martin would write:

“We were now in a truly forlorn condition,–no clothing, no provisions, and as disheartened as need be. We arrived, however, at our destination a few days before christmas. Our prospect was indeed dreary.”

Just a short time after his arrival, Martin continued the plight of himself (and most likely many a soldier in that encampment) when he wrote;

“I lay here two nights and one day, and had not a morsel of any thing to eat all the time, save half a pumpkin, which I cooked by placing it upon a rock, the skin side uppermost, and making a fire upon it; by the time it was heat through I devoured it with as keen an appetite as I should a pie made of it at some other time.”

Martin’s account is supported by General James Varnum, who reported on December 20, 1777, “that his division had eaten no meat during 48 hours and had been three days without bread.”

Suffering at Valley Forge
Suffering at Valley Forge

Yet, during that winter, the experience of Valley Forge, according to another veteran of that harsh winter, “added iron to their souls.”

More than “iron souls” would be needed to defeat the British in the American Revolution. Winter, 1777, would see to that as well.

“The Old Wagoner”

Part One

The last battle of the Revolutionary War was fought in 1951 in Winchester, Virginia. Daniel Morgan, the “Old Wagoner” or ‘Old Morgan” as he was known to his soldiers, was front and center of the maelstrom once again just as he was on many a battle field from Quebec to South Carolina during the War for Independence.

Daniel Morgan Statute in Winchester, Virginia (courtesy of Winchester Star)
Daniel Morgan Statute in Winchester, Virginia
(courtesy of Winchester Star)

Residents of Cowpens, South Carolina, a small town near Spartanburg named for Morgan’s dramatic and strategically critical victory of 1781, arrived in Winchester, Virginia to claim the earthly remains of their revered hero. Morgan’s grave was overgrown and in decrepit condition. In Winchester, only one out of forty people queried by the Carolinians knew who Morgan was. Armed with shovels, a mortician, and a letter of authorization from Morgan’s great-great granddaughter, the Carolinians showed up at Mount Hebron Cemetery to dig up the general, take him “home” and reinter him at the site of his greatest victory. There he could rest among a populace that revered his name and cherished his significant contributions toward American independence. However, word of the Carolinians’ attempted exhumation of Morgan quickly spread through town and a contingent of devoted local admirers quickly headed to Mt. Hebron to stop the Carolinians initiative. In the end, a court ruled that the “Old Wagoner” would remain interred at Mt. Hebron in Winchester. Not only did he stay, but this episode kindled a reverence for the General’s legacy and place in history among Winchester’s populace.

Seventeen year-old Daniel Morgan moved into the Shenandoah Valley in 1753, with nothing but sheer determination to carve out a life for himself in the rugged frontier of western Virginia. His early years are shrouded in mystery that Morgan himself kept secret from even his closest associates throughout his life. He was born of Welsh parentage in 1836 in Bucks County Pennsylvania or Hunterdon County, New Jersey, the fifth of seven children. It was a hard life of work on the family farmstead with no opportunity for even a rudimentary education. His time was spent chopping wood, hoeing fields and other taxing physical labor. His mother died when he was young, and his father remarried. A dispute with his father prompted the fiery Morgan to head west on the Great Wagon Road to Carlisle, Pennsylvania where he worked briefly during the winter of 1752-53, before continuing south to the Shenandoah.

Although Morgan lacked an education, the work on the family farm had hardened his six-foot, two-hundred pound frame into a powerful and muscular young man who was well suited for the physicality of life on the frontier. The blue-eyed youth initially obtained employment as a farm laborer in eastern Frederick County in what is now Clarke County. He worked hard and soon earned an offer of better employment. In spite of his youth, Morgan eared employment as the overseer of a saw mill where he learned to manage older and more experienced men, developing his leadership ability. Morgan’s energy and work ethic impressed Robert Burwell who offered Morgan a position as a teamster hauling valley produce across the Blue Ridge to Fredericksburg and other towns in the Virginia Piedmont and carrying badly needed supplies back to the frontier that was the Shenandoah Valley of the 1750’s.

Morgan enjoyed the freedom of the open road and in less than two years had earned enough money to buy his own team and Conestoga wagon. During this time, Morgan had become close friends with fellow teamster John “Captain Jack” Ashby, grandfather of the Virginia Civil War cavalryman. Ashby was noted for his “horsemanship, marksmanship and daring exploits.” Ashby taught Morgan to shoot, hunt, ride and live in the wilderness along the Blue Ridge.  The two men were kindred spirits and became good friends.

In 1755, the French and Indian War came to the Shenandoah Valley when British Maj. Gen. Edward Braddock’s column passed through the Winchester area on its way to wrest Fort Duquesne from the French at the “Forks of the Ohio,” now the site of Pittsburgh. Morgan signed on the haul supplies to Fort Cumberland in western Maryland and soon found himself as a teamster with the army, rolling into western Pennsylvania. When the French and Indians routed Braddock at the battle of the Monongahela in July, the teamsters emptied their wagons of supplies and carried wounded soldiers back to Fort Cumberland. At some point in this campaign, Morgan’s actions or words angered a British officer who violently chastised the young teamster and struck him with the flat of his sword. Morgan’s temper exploded, and the young wagoner knocked the officer out with one strong punch. A court martial sentenced Morgan to 500 lashes, a punishment that often killed its recipients. The stout Morgan endured the suffering and noted that the drummer miscounted and he had only received 499 lashes. He would proudly wear the scars suffered at the hands of the British for the rest of his life.

Depiction of Daniel Morgan on the frontier (courtesy of Fort Edwards)
Depiction of Daniel Morgan on the frontier
(courtesy of Fort Edwards)

With Braddock’s devastating defeat, the French and Indians went on the offensive raiding into western Virginia. Morgan enlisted in a Ranger Company commanded by his friend, “Captain Jack” Ashby. Morgan spent much of his time patrolling the wilds of the Allegheny Mountain posts of Hampshire County and building stockades to defend against the marauding French and Indians. On one occasion while carrying messages to one of the forts along with two other men, Indians waylaid his party at Hanging Rock on the Cacapon River, killing his comrades. They shot Morgan in the neck, but he raced away on his horse, narrowly escaping the tomahawk of a pursuing Indian. Morgan lost consciousness from blood loss, but luckily the horse had the path to fort ingrained in her memory and carried him back to safety. Morgan remained in the Ranger Company until Col. George Washington disbanded it in October. Morgan began a period of multiple pursuits. He sojourned himself in the wilds for several months trying his hand as a hunter. He likely spent time as a militiaman in Frederick County. By 1758, however, he almost instinctively returned to the open road, hauling wheat, tobacco and hemp across the Blue Ridge to eastern Virginia commercial centers such as Alexandria, Dumfries or Fredericksburg. In driving the wagons, Morgan had found his calling. The harsh life of the teamster suited his rough and tumble personality. He quickly gained a reputation as on the leading pugilists of the Shenandoah Valley. He could often be found at Berry’s Tavern in what is now Berryville but at the time was known as Battletown because of the constant brawling that occurred at the tavern. These were brutal affairs that included wrestling, punching, choking and gouging of eyes, but Morgan reigned as the champion. Although not always victorious, the stout teamster made sure there was a rematch which he usually won. In spite of his reputation for drinking and fighting, Morgan prospered as a successful teamster, even if his brawling occasionally landed him on the docket of the Frederick County Circuit Court. In 1762, he found love with Abigail Curry who became his common-law wife, introduced him to the Presbyterian religion and bore him two girls. At her request, he cut back on drinking and brawling. He also rented a tract of land began farming marketable crops. Morgan had finally found the good life he sought in the Valley of Virginia.

With talk of independence in the air in 1774, Morgan participated in Lord Dunmore’s War. He was part of a column that operated in the Wheeling, Virginia area. They attacked Indians along the Muskingum River in the Ohio Country and drove them off, but he did not participate in that war’s decisive action at Point Pleasant. As the war drew to a close, word of the troubles in Boston circulated among the men, and Morgan was among those who committed to solidarity with the Massachusetts patriots.

Part Two will cover Morgan in the opening years of the American Revolution, so check back next week.

A life-long student of military history, Scott C. Patchan is a graduate of James Madison University in the Shenandoah Valley. He is the author of many articles and books, includingThe Forgotten Fury: The Battle of Piedmont (1996),Shenandoah Summer: The 1864 Valley Campaign (2007), andSecond Manassas: Longstreet’s Attack and the Struggle for Chinn Ridge (2011).

Patchan serves as a Director on the board of the Kernstown Battlefield Association in Winchester, Virginia, and is a member of the Shenandoah Valley Battlefield Foundation’s Resource Protection Committee.

Mercer’s Grenadier Militia

RevWarWednesdays-headerThis is part two in the series by guest historian Drew Gruber. For part one, click here.

On the morning of October 3, 1781, British Colonels Tarleton and Thomas Dundas led another expedition north towards Gloucester Courthouse and away from the protection of their fortifications at Gloucester Point. Their command that day included some of the most renowned fighting men then in service. Cavalry and mounted infantry from Tarleton’s own British Legion, combined with a detachment of Colonel Simcoe’s Queen’s Rangers, elements of the 17th Dragoons, men from the 23rd Regiment (Royal Welch Fusiliers), German Jaegers and part of the 80th Regiment of Foot provided an impressive host for their American and French adversaries. Captain Johann Ewald, commander of the Jaegers commented after the war that he was sent out with “one hundred horse of Simcoe’s and the remainder of the jagers and rangers, which amounted to only sixty man in order to take a position between Seawell’s planatation and Seawall’s Ordinary. I was to form a chain there to protect a foraging of Indian corn.”[1]

Continue reading “Mercer’s Grenadier Militia”