The National Museum of the United States Army in northern Virginia is well worth a visit. Covering the history of the U.S. Army from colonial beginnings to current operations, it is one of the most impressive museums I’ve seen. Several large galleries focus on major periods of the army’s history, such as the Revolution, Civil War, World War I, World War II, Korea and Vietnam, the Cold War, and current conflicts.
Recently the museum opened a special exhibit on the establishment of the army and the Revolution: “Call To Arms: The Soldier and the Revolutionary War.” It is absolutely outstanding. The exhibit brings together rare items from the army’s collection as well as from museums across the country. The assembly of artifacts is amazing: a cannonball from Trenton, examples of every major type of rifle and musket, a Ferguson Rifle, the sword Cornwallis surrendered at Yorktown, several rare original uniforms, and pistols owned by George Washington.
Flags from the era are extremely rare, and here one can see four original Revolutionary War flags. One of the highlights is that of the Rhode Island Regiment, which has not been out of the state since the Revolution ended.
I’m normally not big on technology but the exhibit featured two well done battle map videos, one on Bunker Hill, the other on Yorktown. A looping video in one corner covered soldier life in camp and on the march, dispelling myths and going into detail about medical care, rations, and more.
For more information about the exhibit, and the museum itself, visit their website:
The “Shot Heard Round the World” on April 19, 1775, hurled the American colonies into a fever pitch and a war footing. But in the 18th century, slow travel and communication meant the news spread gradually. It took 21 days for word of the fighting at Lexington and Concord to reach the town of Mecklenburg, in Berkeley County, Virginia (now Shepherdstown, in Jefferson County, West Virginia).
On May 10, the citizens of Mecklenburg learned of the battles between colonial militiamen and British troops. Combined with reports that Virginia’s royal governor, Lord Dunmore, had seized gunpowder from the magazine in Williamsburg, the townspeople prepared to support their fellow patriots in any way they could.
Local militia members began to drill and ready themselves for action. On June 10, they gathered on the property of Colonel William Morgan, just outside of town, for a patriotic barbecue. Songs were sung, and those present made a solemn pledge to return to the same spot—Morgan’s Grove—fifty years later to commemorate the day.
The rallying point for the Beeline March
After the festivities, drilling resumed, though the men still wondered whether they’d truly be called to arms. That call came on June 14, when the Continental Congress resolved that “six companies of expert riflemen be immediately raised in Pennsylvania, two in Maryland, and two in Virginia.” Once formed and equipped, the companies were to “march and join the army near Boston, to be there employed as light infantry under the command of the chief Officer in that army.”
Virginia’s quota fell to two experienced frontiersmen: Daniel Morgan, who raised a company in Winchester, and Hugh Stephenson, who assembled his company at Mecklenburg. The recruits signed one-year enlistments.
Henry Bedinger, one of Stephenson’s men, noted that “none were received but young men of character, and of sufficient property to clothe themselves completely, find their own arms and accoutrements—that is, an approved rifle, handsome shot pouch and powder-horn, blanket, with such decent clothing as should be prescribed.” It took fewer than seven days to raise a full complement of 100 men. Only a delay in procuring enough rifles kept the company from marching immediately.
Stephenson and Morgan agreed to rendezvous in Frederick, Maryland, before continuing to Boston. Morgan’s men departed first, on July 15. Stephenson’s company followed from Morgan’s Grove on July 17.
“Morgan having the start, we used every exertion to overhaul him—in vain,” wrote Bedinger, “although we marched (always in single file) from 30 to 36 miles a number of days.”
Along the way, Stephenson’s men were greeted by cheering citizens and well-supplied with food. Their grueling pace—averaging over 20 miles per day—became legendary. Only two men failed to complete the full journey: one was court-martialed, the other accidentally wounded.
On August 11, after marching more than 500 miles in just 25 days, Stephenson’s company arrived in Cambridge, Massachusetts, just behind Morgan’s men. There, they halted before General George Washington.
Stephenson’s company reporting to General Washington at Cambridge (My Ride to the Barbecue)
As the riflemen presented arms, Bedinger recalled, the general “slowly rode by us looking attentively and affectionately at the soldiers from his native state. When he shook hands with our captain, it was said they both shed tears.”
The journey became known as the Beeline March for its quick and direct route to join the Continental Army. Fifty years later, on June 10, 1825, the veterans honored their pledge to return to Morgan’s Grove. Of the original company, only five men were still alive, and just two were able to attend the reunion. One of them was Michael Bedinger, who recalled the events of 1775 and sang “two patriotic songs…the very same that had been sung at that spot fifty years before.”
Today, two markers commemorate the Beeline March’s origin. In Morgan’s Grove Park, a 1988 monument marks the “Shepherdstown Rally Point.” Down the road, in Elmwood Cemetery, a 1932 monument erected by the Daughters of the American Revolution lists the names of the commissioned and non-commissioned officers of Stephenson’s company.
For a fledgling armed force preparing to challenge one of the world’s greatest military powers, the Beeline March demonstrated the resolve, discipline, and patriotic fervor of early American soldiers—and set a standard for those who would follow.
Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes back Jeffrey Collin Wilford Part I, click here. Part II, click here.
Major Andre’s Reckoning
Along the way from Tarrytown, New York, to West Point, Benjamin Tallmadge conversed almost nonstop with the freshly captured British prisoner John André and learned much about the youthful officer. It was perhaps Major Tallmadge’s background as George Washington’s chief intelligence officer as well as recollections illuminated by the light of André’s charisma, that helped begin to paint a picture of an honorable soldier. After countless hours of conversation during their journey north he became convinced that André’s “Head was in fault, & not his heart.” Tallmadge commented later that André was “a most delectable Companion. It often drew tears from my Eyes to find him so pleasant & agreeable in Conversation on different Subjects, when I reflected on his future fate, & that too, as I believed, so near at hand—” In the short time the two spent together Tallmadge seemed to have grown extremely fond of the British Major.
One can sympathize with Tallmadge’s point of view. After all, André was merely another victim of the traitor Arnold. He had intended to meet him on board the Vulture but when Arnold failed to show he was forced to go ashore with Smith. After the Vulture was scared off by artillery and Arnold convinced him to don civilian clothes, plying him with incriminating materials and sending him through enemy territory, the stage was set. In his testimony, he said it was General “Clinton’s directions not to go within an Enemy post or to quit my own dress.“ Even so, by his own admission, it was the ruling of the military Proceedings that “he changed his Dress within our Lines and under a feigned Name and in a Disguished [sic].”
Perhaps Tallmadge’s sympathies toward André were accentuated by his hatred for Arnold. Tallmadge’s characterization of André becomes clearer in a simple personal act from his testimony when he stated that “André kept reviewing his shabby Dress, & finally remarked to me that he was positively ashamed to go to the Head Qrs of the American Army in such a plight. I called my Servant, & directed him to bring my Dragoon Cloak, which I presented to André. This he refused to take for some time, but I insisted on it, & he finally put it on & rode in it to Tappan.”
By the time they made Tappan, André was under heavy guard and imprisoned at Mabie’s Tavern. Just a few hundred feet away, Washington convened 14 of his top military officers who, over two days of testimony, found André guilty and sentenced him to death. On October 1st André personally requested from Washington the honor of a firing squad over a “gibbet.” Knowing the favor could not be granted, Washington opted to ignore the request.
On October 2nd, just before noon, André appeared on the stoop of Mabie’s Tavern. Four officers were present to escort the convicted spy to his final judgment. One of the four officers was Captain Lieutenant John Van Dyk, with just six months separating this moment from his own capture by the British off the coast of New Jersey. “There were about six steps which led into the stoop of the house, on the light of these, one American officer with myself were standing when Major André came out of the front door of the house in regimentals, hooking his arm with the two American officers (his attendants) one on his right and left. He ran down the steps of the stoop as quickly and lively as though no execution was to take place, and immediately fell into the centre of the guard, a place assigned him.”
André exits Mabie’s Tavern on the day of execution. (copyright: New York Public Library)
Escorting André with his four guards was also Major Benjamin Tallmadge. “I walked with him to the place of execution, and parted with him under the gallows, entirely overwhelmed with Grief, that so gallant an officer, & so accomplished a Gentleman should come to such an ignominious End.” Echoing that sentiment in writing nine days after his execution was Alexander Hamilton, saying “Never perhaps did any man suffer death with more justice, or deserve it less.”
Mabie’s Tavern today (Wilford)
When André had turned the corner to see the gallows before him, Van Dyk recorded his statement. “Gentlemen, I am disappointed, I expected my request…would have been granted.” According to Van Dyk, preparations were made and André’s final words when asked if he had any were “I have nothing more to say, gentlemen, but this, you all bear me witness, that I meet my fate as a brave man.” With that came the untimely end of Major John André who was then cut down and not allowed to fall to the ground and “every attention and respect was paid to Major André that it is possible to pay a man in his situation.” He was placed in a simple coffin and buried in a shallow grave close to the site. Over the following 40 years, a peach tree grew above the grave, ostensibly from a peach given to André by a woman as he marched to his execution.
When the Duke of York requested the return of his remains in 1821 it was not without fear of a backlash, specifically from the residents of Tappan. Many felt it was an affront to the memory of George Washington. British consul James Buchanan found that the protestations dissipated quickly after he agreed to buy those who were against the idea a drink at the local inn. The bones were then dug up with the root of the peach growing through the skull’s eye socket. They were placed in a mahogany ossuary and shipped by way of a British mail ship called a packet to New York City where they awaited their return to London.
Captain, now Colonel, John Van Dyk, 67 years old and working for the New York Customs House near the docks of the North (Hudson) River heard about the impending exhumation and, using his connections with influential New Yorker John Pintard, requested a dialog with Buchanan. Through the British consul, he obtained a penned introduction to the captain of the packet where André’s bones lay. Van Dyk made his way to the North River and found the captain just leaving to go back aboard the packet. Upon handing him the introduction from Buchanan, the captain requested that he return at 10 o’clock the following morning and a barge would be waiting to take him to the ship.
Coincidentally, that same day Dr. Valentine Mott, considered by many to be the greatest surgeon of his time, was treating one of Van Dyk’s children and heard of Van Dyk’s plan. Naturally, he was invited along for the next morning’s visit. That day, the two reached the docks just before 10 o’clock and met the barge which took them to the ship. “We went together on board the Packet. The bones were in a superb urn, and we were permitted to handle them. I mentioned the circumstances, as I have related them above, to the Captain [about André’s execution] — bid him goodbye, and we came on shore.” Van Dyk’s motivations for wanting to visit the remains of André are lost to history and probably best understood by those who experienced the emotions of that fateful day in American history.
Amidst a boat of mail destined for England, John André left New York for the last time, traveling back to London where his remains were repatriated. His ossuary was emptied of its contents and his remains were buried in Westminster Abbey with the inscription “universally beloved and esteemed by the Army in which he served, and lamented even by his foes, now lay alongside medieval kings, Renaissance statesmen, and Georgian poets.” Arnold and his wife Peggy lived the rest of their lives post-Revolution in London, reviled by most, and are buried just 3 miles away at St. Mary’s Church in Battersea, in a vault that sits behind a wall in a basement kindergarten classroom.
[Original source: The Papers of George Washington, Revolutionary War Series, vol. 28, 28 August–27 October 1780, edited by William M. Ferraro and Jeffrey L. Zvengrowski, 291–296. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 2020.]
[Original source: The Papers of George Washington, Revolutionary War Series, vol. 28, 28 August–27 October 1780, edited by William M. Ferraro and Jeffrey L. Zvengrowski, 277–283. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 2020.]
[Original source: The Papers of George Washington, Revolutionary War Series, vol. 22, 1 August–21 October 1779, edited by Benjamin L. Huggins, 745–746. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 2013.]
[Original source: The Papers of George Washington, Revolutionary War Series, vol. 28, 28 August–27 October 1780, edited by William M. Ferraro and Jeffrey L. Zvengrowski, 303–311. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 2020.]
Van Dyk, John. “Major André, Letter of Col. Van Dyk to John Pintard, August 27, 1821.” Historical Magazine 7, no. 8 (August 1863): 250-252.
Van Dyk, John. “Major André.” Martinsburg Gazette, August 20, 1835.
Pennsylvania State House, ca. 1770. Courtesy of the National Park Service
On May 10, 1775, the delegates convened their Second Continental Congress in Philadelphia. Unlike the First Continental Congress held a year before, this Congress had more delegates and met in the Pennsylvania State House and not Carpenters Hall. Also, events spiraled out of control since 1774, and the northern colonies were in outright rebellion with the battles of Lexington and Concord and the capture of Fort Ticonderoga. The delegates dived into several heavy topics as now blood was shed and an army of several thousand besieged the British in Boston.
Just before the Congress met John Adams wrote “our prospect of a Union of the Colonies, is promising indeed. Never was there such a Sprit.” It is evident that there were many discussions in the taverns around Philadelphia among the delegates that showed the feelings of many had changed since 1774. Though there were still a large portion of the colonies that were not ready to give up reconciliation with Great Britain. This tug in pull between men like John Adams and men like John Dickenson (more on the side of reconciliation) is shown in two documents passed by the Congress in early July. The “Olive Branch Petition” and the “Declaration of the Causes and Necessity of Taking Up Arms” reflect the mixed views of the Congress and the colonies as a whole of —conciliation and confrontation. Together, they illustrate the ideological crossroads at which the colonies stood, torn between loyalty to the British Crown and the growing necessity of armed resistance.
The “Olive Branch Petition”, drafted primarily by John Dickinson of Pennsylvania and approved by the Continental Congress on July 5, 1775, was a final attempt by the colonies to avoid a full-scale war with Great Britain. Despite the ongoing military engagements at Lexington, Concord, and Bunker Hill, many colonial leaders still hoped for a peaceful resolution to the growing conflict. The petition expressed loyalty to King George III and implored him to intervene in the escalating tensions caused by his ministers and Parliament.
John Dickinson was the leader of the moderates of the Second Continental Congress. Dickinson has the distinction of serving in the Congress as a representative from Pennsylvania and then Deleware. Courtesy of the National Park Service.
The document was rooted in the belief that reconciliation was still possible. It portrayed the colonies as loyal subjects who had been forced into resistance by the oppressive acts of the British government. The petition requested the King to repeal the Coercive Acts and halt hostilities, suggesting that harmony could be restored without further bloodshed.
Key to understanding the “Olive Branch Petition” is the deep-seated colonial belief in the distinction between the King and Parliament. Many colonists viewed Parliament as the source of tyranny but retained faith in the monarch as a potential protector. This petition, therefore, was not revolutionary but reformist. It sought to open a dialogue rather than sever ties.
However, the petition was rejected outright by King George III, who had already declared the colonies in open rebellion in August 1775 (before the Olve Branch petition arrived in London). He refused to read the document and issued the Proclamation of Rebellion, affirming Britain’s intent to suppress the colonial uprising by force. Many believed that the blood shed at Bunker Hill (226 killed and 828 wounded) combined with the fighting on April 19th backed the King into a corner. How could he accept peace when British soldiers were killed by rebels, especially since by the time he received the petition all the colonies were under arms against him. The rejection marked a turning point: it signaled the end of any realistic hopes for a peaceful compromise and pushed more colonists toward the idea of independence.
In stark contrast, the “Declaration of the Causes and Necessity of Taking Up Arms”, approved on July 6, 1775, just one day after the “Olive Branch Petition”, presented a much more assertive stance. Drafted by a committee including Thomas Jefferson and John Dickinson, the document aimed to justify the colonies’ decision to resist British authority through armed force.
The Declaration opened with a powerful assertion of the colonists’ natural rights and their entitlement to resist tyranny. It traced the history of British oppression, citing the Intolerable Acts, the imposition of taxes without consent, the quartering of troops, and the use of military force to suppress civil liberties. Unlike the Olive Branch Petition, which appealed to the King’s mercy, this document framed the conflict as a necessary defense of liberty and justice.
Although it still professed allegiance to the Crown, the Declaration was far more militant in tone. It acknowledged the seriousness of taking up arms but asserted that the colonies had been left with no other choice. It stated:
“Our cause is just. Our union is perfect. Our internal resources are great, and, if necessary, foreign assistance is undoubtedly attainable.”
This language revealed a shift in colonial thinking—from grievances to justification, from negotiation to resistance. The document was an attempt to rally public support and unify the colonies behind a common cause, portraying the struggle not as a rebellion but as a righteous defense against despotism.
Courtesy of Special Collections, University of Delaware Library
The coexistence of these two documents reflects the political complexity and emotional turmoil of the time. The Continental Congress, representing a wide spectrum of colonial opinion, tried to navigate between diplomacy and defiance. The “Olive Branch Petition” sought to appeal to moderates and loyalists who feared war, while the Declaration of the Causes aimed to galvanize patriots and articulate a coherent justification for resistance.
This dual approach was not merely political hedging but a reflection of genuine uncertainty. Many colonists still considered themselves British and hoped to remain within the empire, albeit under reformed governance. At the same time, the continued military aggression from Britain made armed resistance increasingly inevitable.
Ultimately, the failure of the “Olive Branch Petition” and the intensification of British military efforts helped consolidate revolutionary sentiment. The rejection by King George III confirmed to many that reconciliation was no longer possible. Over the following months, radical voices like Thomas Paine’s in Common Sense would build upon the groundwork laid by the “Declaration of the Causes” and push for full independence, culminating in the Declaration of Independence in July 1776.
The “Olive Branch Petition” and the “Declaration of the Causes and Necessity of Taking Up Arms” encapsulate the American colonies’ transition from loyal subjects to revolutionaries. They demonstrate how, in the face of unyielding imperial power, a people once desperate to avoid conflict found themselves compelled to fight. These documents not only reflect the diplomatic and ideological struggles of the Revolutionary era but also serve as enduring symbols of the tension between peace and justice in times of crisis.
On July 3, 1775 George Washington formally took command of the Continental Army in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Appointed Commander-in-Chief by the Second Continental Congress on June 15, 1775, Washington arrived in Cambridge on July 3, 1775 and assumed command of a disorganized and poorly supplied force besieging British troops in Boston. His leadership would begin the transformation of colonial militias into a unified fighting force capable of challenging British military power.
Washington’s assumption of command occurred at a time when the American colonies were transitioning from protest to open rebellion. The battles of Lexington and Concord in April 1775 had already ignited armed conflict, and the Battle of Bunker Hill in June had demonstrated that colonial forces could stand up to British regulars, though at great cost. Washington understood the gravity of his new role. In a letter to the President of Congress, he wrote humbly, “I am truly sensible of the high Honor done me in this Appointment… I do not think myself equal to the Command I am honored with.” This characteristic modesty was paired with a strong sense of duty and resolve.
Washington assumes command at Cambridge, Courtesy Library of Congress
On July 3, Washington appeared before his troops on Cambridge Common, dressed in a blue coat with buff facings, signifying his Virginian roots. There is no official transcript of a speech he may have delivered that day, but contemporary accounts describe a solemn and determined atmosphere. One observer, Reverend William Emerson, noted in his diary, “General Washington… is a tall and noble-looking man, commanding the respect of all who see him.”
Washington immediately set to work imposing discipline, organizing supply chains, and creating a chain of command. Though former commander of the army, Major General Artemus Ward, worked hard on instilling discipline, he was not a man that instilled a lot of confidence. Washington was appalled by the state of the army, writing in frustration to Congress: “The Army… is in a very improper condition to carry on a vigorous War.” He introduced regular drills, uniform codes, and standardized procedures, striving to turn the disparate bands of militiamen into a functioning army. As historian David McCullough noted, “It was Washington’s presence alone that gave the army cohesion.”
Despite his military inexperience—Washington never commanded an army of this size—he brought a unifying vision and moral authority. His appointment was also politically astute, bridging the regional divide between New England and the southern colonies. A Virginian leading New England troops sent a clear message of unity in the face of British oppression.
Marker commemorating Washington on the Cambridge Common, photo by William Griffith
The Cambridge encampment remained Washington’s headquarters until March 1776, when he successfully forced the British evacuation of Boston by fortifying Dorchester Heights with cannons brought from Fort Ticonderoga. This early strategic victory, achieved without major bloodshed, was a major morale boost and affirmed Congress’s faith in their commander.
In retrospect, July 3, 1775, was the beginning of an enduring legacy of leadership and a love of Washington by his men and officers. Through discipline, vision, and personal integrity, he began shaping a ragtag collection of volunteers into the Continental Army, laying the groundwork for American independence.
Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes back guest historian Eric Wiser
On August 4, 1735 printer John Peter Zenger was acquitted of seditious libel in a dramatic trial before a crowded courtroom in New York’s City Hall. Zenger languished nine months in jail before his acquittal for “printing and publishing a false, scandalous and seditious libel, in which His Excellency the Governor of this Province, who is the King’s immediate representative…” Zenger’s odds were long given New York Supreme Court’s disbarment of his original attorneys in the pre-trial stage. Aggrieved Royal Gov. William Cosby had a legitimate claim under English Common Law that he was seditiously libeled.[1]
Zenger’s fame as an early martyr of freedom of the press is well known. In terms of America’s founding, it’s difficult to imagine independence without the dissemination of ideas through pamphlets and newspapers. Benjamin Franklin, a printer himself whose own brother James was imprisoned by authorities in Massachusetts a decade before Zenger, commented on freedom of the press: “This sacred Privilege is so essential to free Governments, that the Security of Property, and the Freedom of Speech always go together; and in those wretched Countries where a Man cannot call his Tongue his own, he can scarce call any Thing else his own.”[2]
Despite being thirty-years before the Stamp Act of 1765, the Zenger trial and political conditions surrounding it have seedlings sprouting growth in the Revolution. The substance of these can be traced to the colonial grievances inspired by acts of Parliament which in turn became articulated in the Declaration of Independence. Factionalism between supporters of Crown representatives and those opposed was present in the Zenger episode in nascent form. The rhetoric expressed by Zenger’s attorneys is indistinguishable from the much of the lofty language in the Revolution less “independence.”
We take a break from our 250th Revelry series and jump back in time to the French and Indian War. This Sunday, June 29th at 7pm we will welcome Matt Gault, Director of Education at Fort Ligonier, to discuss the fort’s history and its role played during the Forbes Expedition of 1758. General John Forbes’ successful campaign culminated in the capture of French-held Fort Duquesne at the Forks of the Ohio, helping to turn the tide of the French and Indian War.
Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes back Jeffrey Collin Wilford For Part I, click here.
General Benedict Arnold’s Betrayal
On the morning of September 21, 1780, while Captain John Van Dyk, only recently freed from the prison ship Jersey, was guarding West Point as part of Colonel John Lamb’s artillery unit, the HMS Vulture arrived at Haverstraw Bay and anchored just off Teller’s Point. Two men pressing apples at a cider mill on the shore became alarmed at the presence of a British warship on the river north of the “neutral ground,” and a barge disembarking from it filled with Redcoats. Not knowing their intent, both decided to take matters into their own hands and opened fire on the soldiers. John “Rifle Jack” Peterson, a veteran of the Battle of Saratoga, received his nickname due to his superior marksmanship. The other, Moses Sherwood was just 19 years old and a friend of Jack Peterson. Both were enlisted in the Westchester County militia. Their relationship was very close as Rifle Jack had held Sherwood’s father in his arms as he died at Saratoga three years earlier.
Croton (Teller’s) Point today – (Wilford)
Several of their shots hit their mark, wounding soldiers and prompting the barge to return to the Vulture which opened fire with a barrage of grapeshot on the two men as they crouched behind rocks. This signaled to the pair that the ship was within cannon range and they quickly made their way in the darkness to Fort Lafayette ten miles to the north to secure a cannon from the officer in charge, Colonel James Livingston.
Cannon that fired on the Vulture Peekskill Museum (Wilford)
At Peterson and Sherwood worked with several other soldiers to lug the 4-pounder back to the point while, unbeknownst to them, André slipped away from the Vulture. He made his way from the Vulture to shore, at around midnight, with Loyalist Joshua Hett Smith who had been instructed to gather him from the ship. His destination was a clandestine meeting on the river bank with American General Benedict Arnold, the famous war hero of Saratoga who had been plotting for months to turn against the cause of American independence. What was clear, by André’s account, was that this meeting was to be a fairly quick round-trip between the Vulture and shore under cover of darkness.
Instead, an unraveling of the circumstances dictated that he shed all previous warnings from British General Sir Henry Clinton to stay dressed in his regimental uniform, avoid enemy checkpoints, and not possess any incriminating papers. André admitted this to Clinton in a letter written after his capture and dated September 29, 1780 stating, “The Events of coming within an Enemys posts and of Changing my dress which led me to my present Situation were contrary to my own Intentions as they were to your Orders.” This would force him to become, in his own words, “involuntarily an impostor.”
As negotiations on the riverbank dragged on, likely due to Arnold’s negotiations around rank and compensation, daybreak drew near. Fearing discovery, and clearly against André’s original plan, they moved their talks to the home of Smith, which overlooked the river and the Vulture at anchor. During the meeting at Smith’s house, Arnold eventually handed over the defensive plans of the Continental Army’s citadel, West Point, and the minutes from General George Washington’s September 6th War Council meeting that created a vulnerability for the Americans that could have proved catastrophic.
It is easy to understand why West Point was so significant to the British. It was crucial, not just as a military installation situated on the banks of the Hudson between New England and the Southern Colonies, but as a symbol of American strength and resolve. Perched on the high ground overlooking the Hudson, West Point had been there to thwart British attempts to dominate the 300-mile-long river which would have allowed them to effectively cut off the rebels of New England from the rest of the colonies. Losing West Point would have taken an important strategic foothold away from the Americans. The potential of losing General Washington in the process would have also dealt a severely damaging blow to the American cause, if not ending the war altogether.
While the Arnold and André negotiations were taking place, a contingent of men, along with Peterson and Sherwood, had dragged the 4-pounder to Teller’s Point into position on the riverbank within range of the Vulture.
Early in the morning, awakened by cannon fire, the conspirators at Smith’s house could see the Americans in the distance opening fire on the ship. Though he did not immediately know it, this would permanently separate André from his only means of a safe escape. Hit several times and stranded in the middle of the Hudson by a slack tide and unfavorable winds, the Vulture endured the cannon fire but eventually cut her cables to drift with the currents south to Dobbs Ferry.
As a result of the retreat of the Vulture, an alternative plan was devised to get André back to the British lines. On the morning of the 22nd, in disguise and with a pass written by Arnold to travel unmolested behind American lines under the alias John Anderson, he and Smith began the overland trek back to British-occupied New York City. Arnold returned to his home at West Point. What was clear from André’s later testimony was that he felt like this change of plan made him a victim of circumstance saying he “thought it was settled that in the way I came I was also to return.”
What were the motivations for the thirty-nine-year-old hero of Saratoga, who had risen through the military ranks to become one of Washington’s most effective field generals, to give up not only West Point, but his reputation in history? Much has been written, but what is known is that he had been living a life well beyond his means. His wife Peggy Shippen, half his age and from a prominent Philadelphia Loyalist merchant family, had a taste for luxury. To woo the 19-year-old, Arnold openly lived a life of excess while in Philadelphia which turned more than a few heads, wondering if he had secretly been trading with the British.
Benedict Arnold was also known for his self-assured nature and temper. Infighting within certain circles of the military, and his discovery that several junior officers had received promotions ahead of him, provided him even more motivation to turn. Arnold felt the military did not display the respect that was due a war hero and this sentiment was on display in a letter to Washington on May 5, 1779. “Having made every sacrifice of fortune and blood, and become a cripple in the service of my country, I little expected to meet the ungrateful returns I have received of my countrymen.” Perhaps the influence placed upon him by his relationship with Peggy due to her father’s position, and his criticism of the American cause added more weight to his self-imposed need to betray his country. Consequently, he began to develop a plan to turn over West Point to British General Sir Henry Clinton, with Major John André as the British intermediary.
The second day treading enemy soil was rather uneventful as André and Smith carefully made their way south to the original King’s Ferry which crossed the Hudson between Stony Point and Verplanck, the site of the former Fort Lafayette. The crossing was a nerve-wracking affair for André as this was the main ferry crossing for all Continental troops and supplies just outside of the watchful eye of the British forces in New York City 45 miles to the south. Following the Crom-Pond Road, the journey was slow and deliberate, befitting a spy and his Loyalist guide. As nightfall approached, they bedded down at a farmhouse before continuing their journey early the next morning.
Isaac Underhill House – Where André ate his last breakfast (Wilford)
The pair continued to make their way along the Croton River until reaching the southernmost lines of the Continental Army where Smith left André just after finishing their breakfast at the Isaac Underhill house. By the time André had reached Tarrytown, New York, by way of the Albany Post Road, a road he had been told to avoid, his luck had run out. Isaac Underhill House – Where André ate his last breakfast (Wilford)
At 9 o’clock on the morning of September 23, 1780, André was stopped by three militiamen at Clark’s Kill, a stream that today marks the boundary between Sleepy Hollow and Tarrytown, New York. According to André, he “was taken by three Volunteers who not Satisfied with my pass riffled me and finding papers Made me a prisoner.” Isaac Van Wart, John Paulding, and David Williams would go on to be considered heroes by most, but certainly not by all. One of their leading detractors was the person George Washington entrusted with returning André to West Point and ultimately Tappan for trial, Major Benjamin Tallmadge. Tallmadge was Washington’s chief intelligence officer and he believed the three militiamen were “of that class of person who passed between both armies.” He felt they lacked the very character he would end up heaping upon André.
André Capture Site (Wilford)
While the circumstances surrounding Major John André’s capture unfolded in Tarrytown, General Arnold, aware that his treacherous plot had been uncovered, and leaving behind his baby and a hysterically distraught Peggy Shippen, raced to avoid capture and meet up with the HMS Vulture. Upon his return from a meeting with French General Rochambeau at Hartford Connecticut, Washington, unaware of any involvement by Shippen, allowed her to return to her family in Philadelphia, perhaps letting go of an important bargaining chip in the process. It would later be learned that she might have been complicit in her husband’s treason. While she openly denied it, an admission from Theodosia Burr, Aaron Burr’s wife, that she admitted to her involvement as well as a £500 annual pension from King George III would suggest this.
Dedicated in 1881 and made of bronze, the statue of Colonel William Prescott stands over nine feet tall. Although the man who stood steadfast on the earthen parapet of Bunker Hill was not quite that tall. Yet, on June 17, 1775, the men of New England looked up to the approximately 50-year-old that day.
A National Park Service page on Colonel Prescott and Bunker Hill is titled, “A Glorious Immortality.”An account that was passed down about the Massachusetts militia officer vividly describes why he deserves that moniker.
“The breast work or redoubt was only constructed of such earth as the party had thrown up after the middle of the night and was not more than breast high to a man of medium height. Colonel Prescott being a very tall man, six feet and two or three inches in height, his head and shoulders and a considerable portion of his body must have been exposed during the whole of the engagement. He wore a three-cornered cocked hat and a ban-yan or calico coat. After one of his men was killed by cannon ball, Prescott, perceiving that this had made some of the soldiers sick at heart, mounted tile para-pet and walked leisurely around it, cheering his soldiers by approbation and humor. His clothing was repeatedly spattered with the blood and the brains of the killed and wounded.”
Leadership. Example. Personal bravery. He was also one of the last to leave the earthwork as the British captured it.
He now stands, in bronze, watching over the scene where he proved he was a match for the moment.
After years of political unrest between Great Britain and her North American colonies, tension finally boiled over into armed conflict on April 19, 1775, at Lexington and Concord. The British expedition to capture arms and munitions held by the colonists at Concord disintegrated into a panic-ridden retreat to Boston as local militias struck the column as it moved through the Massachusetts countryside. As often happens in war, seeds planted during a battle often sow the next.
Rather than enter march through Boston Neck British officers diverted to Cambridge and proceeded to the Charlestown Peninsula. Bordered by the Charles and Mystic Rivers, the peninsula jutted out into Boston Harbor northeast of the city. As darkness settled in, exhausted British soldiers made their way onto 110-foot high Bunker Hill. This eminence, commanded Charlestown Neck, a narrow sliver of land connecting to the mainland, along with the surrounding landscape.
That night, Lt. Gen. Thomas Gage, the British Commander-in-Chief met with Vice Admiral Samuel Graves, head of the North Atlantic Squadron. Among other suggestions, Graves urged Gage to burn Charlestown and occupy Bunker Hill. Graves likely knew that his ships in the harbor could not elevate their artillery to reach the high ground. Additionally, Bunker Hill was out of range of the Copp’s Hill Battery located in the city’s North End.
Thomas Gage
Gage recognized the long-simmering pot would eventually boil over with the colonists. “If you think ten thousand men sufficient, send twenty; if one million thought enough, give two; you save both blood and treasure in the end,” he wrote the previous fall to his superiors in London. Now, seemingly distant from the tactical situation on the ground, the survivor of the Monogahela rejected Graves’ proposal, claiming “the weakness of the army.” One must wonder if this was a decision Gage came to privately regret.
The arrival of reinforcements at the end of May, along with Maj. Gens. John Burgoyne, Henry Clinton, and William Howe may have buoyed Gage’s spirits. He soon began making plans to break out of Boston. In consultation with his subordinates, Gage formulated a plan to strike first across Boston Neck to capture Dorchester Heights, which commanded the southern end of the city. A second attack would capture Charlestown then move the three miles to Cambridge to hopefully destroy the Massachusetts army. The offensive was slated to take place on June 18.
Unfortunately, Boston leaked like a sieve and Gage failed to maintain what is known today as operational security. His plans were soon known in Cambridge where the Massachusetts Committee of Safety authorized their own effort to occupy Bunker Hill ahead of the British. On the night of June 16, colonial units led by Col. William Prescott marched out of Cambridge toward Charlestown. Rather than follow his orders, Prescott moved to the 60 foot high Breed’s Hill, located slightly to the southeast of Bunker Hill. Prescott’s decision remains one of the great mysteries surrounding the battle. His men began construction of a redoubt.
Another question surrounding the engagement rests with Henry Clinton. Sometime on the evening of June 16, Clinton wrote he conducted a reconnaissance and claimed he witnessed Provincial activity. He did not, however, explain where he went nor reported the type of actions he saw. Additionally, visibility would be difficult in the growing dusk. Clinton further stated he reported his findings to Gage and Howe but Gage elected to wait for daylight.
Sunrise revealed Prescott’s men atop Breed’s Hill, hard at work on the redoubt, which threatened the northern end of the city. Gage and his officers quickly convened at his headquarters at the Province House. Howe, the senior officer, would be in command. Some thought was given to sail up the Mystic to land on Charlestown Neck well in the rear of the redoubt. This plan was quickly nixed for fear the force could be isolated and cut off by reinforcements from Cambridge and militia on Breed’s Hill. It was eventually decided Howe would land below and out of range of the redoubt. Orders soon went out for the mustering of the “ten oldest companies” the flank and grenadiers, each – along with several regiments to prepare for the operation.
Each British regiment consisted of ten companies, eight line, with two flank and grenadier companies. The flank companies consisted of men who were often the shortest and fastest, who could operate in open order tactics, moving quickly to engage and skirmish with the enemy. The grenadiers, identified by their bear skin hats, were often the tallest men in the regiment and were used as the shock troops during an attack. By the time of the American Revolution, they were no longer carrying hand grenades but the name remained. Oftentimes these companies were separated from their regiments and placed in their own battalions.
Howe disembarked from Long Wharf, going over himself in the second wave, that afternoon. The British landed at Moulton’s Hill, near the modern Navy Yard. Stepping ashore, Howe observed his objective. “On first view it was clearly seen that the rebels were in forced and strongly entrenched upon their right in the Redoubt that had been seen from the town at daybreak,” he reported. “Their left and center were covered by a breastwork which reached from the Redoubt to the Mystick, the space from the Redoubt to that river being about 380 yards, and the whole extent they occupied about 600 yards”. The extent of the defenses compelled Howe to call for reinforcements.
Toward the middle of the day, the British launched their assault. Although Howe’s second in command, Brig. Gen. Robert Pigot was present and directed the left of the line, Howe also decided to take a stronger role and led the center himself on foot. Howe directed his light infantry to advance along the beach of the Mystic, likely with the hope in mind of getting behind the redoubt. This attack was met and repulsed by New Hampshire militia under Col. John Stark. So too were Howe’s and Pigot’s attacks. Watching his men come stumbling back after the failed attempt prompted Howe to later write “it was a moment I had not felt before.”
In the second assault, Howe attempted to further squeeze off the redoubt, pulling the light infantry from the beach to augment his center. At the same time, Pigot sent the 1st Marine Battalion and the 47th Regiment of Foot to get between Charlestown and the redoubt. During the assault, which also failed, the light infantry fired into the rear of the grenadiers, inflicting casualties.
Once again, the British lurched forward, determined to overwhelm the redoubt by a sheer force of numbers. This time, luck was with them as the militia were running out of ammunition. Francis, Lord Rawdon, an officer in the 5th Regiment of Foot who would go on to distinguish himself in the Southern Campaigns recalled “our men grew impatient, and all crying Push on, Push on, advanced with infinite spirit to attack the work with their small arms. As soon as the rebels perceived this, they rose up and poured in so heavy a fire upon us that the oldest officers say they never saw a sharper action. They kept up this fire until we were within ten yards of them…there are few instances of regular troops defending a redoubt till the enemy were in the very ditch of it.”
The British infantry swarmed into Prescott’s redoubt. Somewhere in the maelstrom was British lieutenant and adjutant of the 1st Marines, John Waller. “Nothing could be more shocking than the carnage that followed the storming of this work,” he wrote “We tumbled over the dead to get at the living who were crowding out of the gorge of the redoubt…’twas streaming with blood and strewed with the dead and dying men, the soldiers stabbing some and dashing out the brains of the others.” The colonials managed to retreat across Charlestown Neck, the British too exhausted to give chase.
Bunker Hill became the first of many pyrrhic victories for the British over the course of the American Revolution. Still, there were a number of shortcomings. Howe, rather than oversee the attacks from Moulton’s Hill, led the assaults himself. Perhaps he needed to inspire his men or he recognized the importance of the situation but he reverted to being a battalion commander. One must wonder whether the initial attacks could have been more effective had he delegated authority and used more of a guiding hand. Howe’s experience that day may have influenced him for the remainder of the war. Rather than rely on frontal assaults, he utilized flanking maneuvers such as those at Long Island and Brandywine. The friendly fire casualties can be attributed to inexperience amongst the ranks. Gage, along with his subordinates also share, the blame for not maintaining operational security and letting their plans slip out of Boston. Additionally, Gage failed to heed the advice of Graves and secure Charlestown Peninsula in April when he had the opportunity. The result nearly two months to the day resulted in over 1,000 British soldiers killed and wounded, a high cost of blood and treasure, in a war that would lead to the independence of the United States.
Emerging Revolutionary War Era 