Why did Boston’s act of political vandalism lead to a British military expedition against small towns in Massachusetts sixteen months later?
How, exactly did evolving political tensions result in actual warfare?
How did Lexington and Concord become, as Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote, “the shot heard around the world.”
The Spirit of ’74, How the American Revolution Began by Ray Raphael and Marie Raphael
In a much-needed narrative, historians Ray and Marie Raphael fill in the movement toward those first shots at Lexington and Concord. In a primary source driven, easy to read history of that year before and leading up to 1775. However, “our story slows, pausing at additional markers that are often bypassed or slighted” (x).
Therein lies “only in a full telling is war a plausible outcome” (x).
The Raphael duo fluidly walks the reader through the build-up to that fateful April 1775 day. The book sheds light on developments in towns and counties across the colony of Massachusetts. A timeline in the beginning provides a good resource to remember the important dates as you read.
With the British response to the Boston Tea Party of December 1773, committed activists perceived that Britain had handed them a blueprint for disenfranchisement (44). What would be seen in the colony as the Coercive Acts, which, among other changes nullified the Charter of 1691 which colonists in Massachusetts held as sacrosanct. When the news of what the British government had did, which arrived in the harbor of Boston in May 1774 until the following April 1775, “resistance would mount, coalesce, and manifest itself in armed, relentless rebellion (44).
That coalescing would resemble an accordion, with Boston being one end and the countryside of Massachusetts the other end of the instrument. Both ends would reverberate the bellows as ideas, exchanges of opinions, passive and aggressive action, all marred the intervening months of 1774. Until as Abigail Adams wrote many months before April 1775, the”flame is kindled and like lightening it catches from soul to soul” (192).
The Raphael duo capture what the farmers in Berkshire set in motion, in accordance with capturing the attitude of townspeople in Worcester, Massachusetts at the same time. These various local uprisings, which put an emphasis on peaceful activities coalesced into the call for committees and eventually into the need for the Provincial Congress. This Congress acted as the de-facto governing body of Massachusetts in response to British measures to subdue and punish the intransigent rebels.
When viewed through the prism of the preceding years, what happened on the green of Lexington or the North Bridge at Concord becomes clearer as the pivot in which the simmering resentment in Massachusetts finally boiled over and led to the “shot heard around the world.”
Every once in a while a monograph is written that fills a necessary void in the field of early American Revolutionary history. This history is definitely one of those as it fills in that critical, yet overlooked, time period in the build-up to the fighting between British-American colonists and the redcoats that represented the mother country.
One cannot hope to understand the events of 1775 and beyond without knowing how the colonists of Massachusetts, so many that have unfortunately been lost to the passing of time, began the protests that led to independence, beginning in the years before.
Or as the authors more succinctly state; “and so begins a story we know” (214).
Book Information:
Publisher: The New Press, New York, NY
Pages: 219 pages plus acknowledgements, bibliography, index, and, timeline
Col. Andrew Lewis, commander of the Virginia forces at Point Pleasant.
Andrew Lewis, another Scot, whose family had founded the town of Staunton, Virginia, led a command of the same Scots-Irish ruffians who later fought and won the 1781 Battle of Kings Mountain during the Revolutionary War. These men were fiercely independent and were known to be hard, determined fighters. They were the right men to pursue the mission laid out by Lord Dunmore.
Chief Cornstalk
Chief Cornstalk, the Shawnee leader, led a force to intercept Lewis’ force to prevent Lewis from completing his rendezvous with Dunmore’s army. The Shawnee chief led somewhere between 300-500 warriors, including the future Shawnee war chief, Blue Jacket. If they attacked Lewis’ command, they would do so with less than half the manpower. Cornstalk intended to attack Camp Pleasant, hoping to trap Lewis’ force on a bluff overlooking the Ohio River.
The Indians crossed the river on rafts about three miles upriver from the confluence of the rivers on the night of October 9. They expected to take Lewis’ camp by surprise, and they nearly succeeded. However, half an hour or so before sunrise, two men of Capt. William Russell’s company spotted the Indian war party about a mile from Camp Pleasant. The Indians shot down one of the two men, but the other escaped and brought in the intelligence that an Indian attack was imminent. A few minutes later, two men of Capt. Evan Shelby’s company brought in a similar report.
Shawnee war chief Blue Jacket.
Lewis immediately ordered his brother, Col. Charles Lewis, to take command of a division of 150 men, while Col. William Fleming assumed command of another division of 100 or so men. The following is a contemporaneous account of the battle, written a week later:
Col. Charles Lewis’ division marched to the right, some distance from the Ohio, and Col. Fleming, with his division on the bank of the Ohio, to the left.
Col. Charles Lewis’ division had not marched quite half a mile from the camp when, about sunrise, an attack was made on the front of his division, in a most vigorous manner, by the united tribes of Indians—Shawnees, Delawares, Mingoes, Tawas, and of several other nations—in number not less than eight hundred, and by many thought to be one thousand.
In this heavy attack, Col. Charles Lewis received a wound which, in a few hours caused his death, and several of his men fell on the spot; in fact, Augusta division was obliged to give way to the heavy fire of the enemy. In about a second of a minute after the attack on Col. Lewis’ division, the enemy engaged the front of Col. Fleming’s division, on the Ohio, and in a short time the Colonel received two balls through his left arm, and one through his breast, and, after animating the officers and soldiers in a most calm manner to the pursuit of victory, retired to the camp.
The loss in the field was sensibly felt by the officers in particular; but the Augusta troops, being shortly after reinforced from the camp by Col. Field, with his company, together with Capt. McDowell, Capt. Mathews and Capt. Stewart, from Augusta; Capt. Paulin, Capt. Arbuckle and Capt. McClannahan, from Botetourt, the enemy no longer able to maintain their ground, was forced to give way till they were in a line with the troops, Col. Fleming being left in action on the bank of the Ohio.
In this precipitate retreat. Col. Field was killed. During this time, which was till after twelve, the action in a small degree abated, but continued, except at short intervals, sharp enough till after 1 o’clock. Their long retreat gave them a most advantageous spot of ground, from whence it appeared to the officers so difficult to dislodge them that it was thought most advisable to stand as the line was then formed, which was about a mile and a quarter in length, and had sustained till then a constant and equal weight of the action, from wing to wing.
It was till about half an hour till sunset they continued firing on us scattering shots, which we returned to their disadvantage. At length, the night coming on, they found a safe retreat.
They had not the satisfaction of carrying off any of our men’s scalps, save one or two stragglers whom they killed before the engagement. Many of their dead they scalped, rather than we should have them, but our troops scalped upwards of twenty of their men that were first killed.
It is beyond doubt their loss, in number, far exceeded ours, which is considerable;
The return of the killed and wounded in the above battle, same as our last, as follows:—Killed—Colonels Charles Lewis and John Field, Captains John Murray, R. McClannahan, Samuel Wilson, James Ward, Lieut. Hugh Allen, ensigns Cantiff and Bracken, and forty-four privates. Total killed, fifty -three.
Wounded—Col. William Fleming, Captains John Dickinson, Thomas Buford and I. Skidman Lieutenants Goldman, Robinson, Lard and Vance, and seventy-nine privates. Total wounded, eighty-seven; killed and wounded one hundred and forty.
Steven T. Mitchell, who fought at Point Pleasant, left this 1827 account of the fighting:
We landed about a mile on the left-hand shore of Kanawha, and climbing a large hill, we were saluted by a hundred Indians, encamped upon the top. Our captors told their adventures, no doubt, with every aggravation; for, after the most frantic expressions of grief and rage, I was bound to a tree, a large pine tree, which stands to this day upon the brow of the hill, and the fire was kindled around me. I said my prayers; my time was come; my body felt the scorching heat: but, by a miraculous interposition of Providence, the clouds which had been lowering all day, now burst out in showers, and quenched the flames. The Indians thought the Great Spirit looked over me, and directed the shower for my safety. My bonds were loosened, and I was allowed a little jirk and hommony for my refreshment. The next day I could perceive some great expedition on foot; the Indians were running to and fro in every direction; some grinding paint and some cleaning up their arms; and even the squaws and little boys were providing themselves with hatchets and scalping knives, and strewing themselves from the Ohio river all along the cliffs of Kanawha.
Late in the evening, I saw an uncommon anxiety on the faces of the savages; councils, grand and petty, were held in various places, and so completely were my guards absorbed in the undertaking which was at hand, that they became entirely remiss in their attentions to me. I resolved to seize the propitious moment, and make my escape. I sprang: on my feet and ran as fast as my legs would carry me. A loud whoop proclaimed the event, and in a moment, I could perceive myself closely pursued by half a dozen athletic young fellows, with uplifted tomahawks. Fear added to my limbs the agility of the deer. With my head turned back over one shoulder, I bounded through the pine-trees until my speed had carried me unawares to the brink of a precipice. I tried to stop; it was too late; I gave a piercing shriek and bounded over. A rushing sound in my ears like the roaring of a mill-dam, then the crashing of branches and limbs recalled me to my recollection, and I found myself to my inexpressible delight, breaking my way through the thick branches of a buck-eye tree. I alighted without injury, and looking back upon the cliff above, could see my savage pursuers gaping over the precipice in amazement. I gave not a second look, but darted off towards the point with a heart swelling with praise to the great Creator, who had thus twice rescued me so miraculously from my enemies. Arriving at the mouth of the Kanawha, I shouted aloud for assistance. But, the whites had too often been decoyed by their own people to the savages, to be easily imposed upon. They answered me they could give no assistance. I could not swim, but my ingenuity, never fertile in expedients, befriended me now for the first time in my life. I rolled down a dry log from the bank into the water, and getting astride of it, I managed by great exertion of hands and feet, to row it across the stream, which at that time, from the great height of the Ohio, was as still as a mill-pond I was received by General Lewis, the commandant of the fort, with great cordiality and affection; and, being naked and necessitous, I enrolled myself as a regular in the corps; and, being dressed in militaire, with a tremendous rifle in my hand and a thick breast work before me, I felt as brave as Julius Caesar.
I was in hopes that I might enjoy, within the walls of a fort, some respite from the fears, toils and anxieties which had, for the last two weeks, worn me out both body and mind. But he who undertakes to settle in a new and savage country, must look out for no such respite, until, by hardihood and perseverance, he has leveled the forest, with its inhabitants, to the earth.
On the 10th of October, 1774, about sun-rise, the hunters came in at fall speed, and gave the appalling information that a large body of Indians had spread themselves from river to river, and were advancing by slow degrees, towards the fort; at the same instant, we could observe the women and boys skulking up and down the opposite banks of the Ohio and Kanawha. The position of the fort was peculiarly favourable to a surprise. As I have above mentioned, it was situated at a right angular point formed by the confluence of the Kanawha and Ohio rivers. The country above the fort was covered with a heavy forest and impervious growth of underwood, through which an invading force might penetrate completely undiscovered, to the very walls of the fort. The garrison was composed of about twelve hundred men entirely Virginians, from the counties of Botetourt and Augusta. The Indians consisted of about the same number, the flower of the Shawnee, Wyandotte and Mingoe tribes, who were commanded by the celebrated “Chieftain, Cornstalk.”
From the large force which he had collected for this expedition, and from the secrecy of his movements, it was evident that the Indian Chief, in this desperate attempt to recover the country east of the Ohio river, meditated nothing less than an entire extermination of the garrison. General Lewis ordered out about seven hundred of his rangers, under the command of his nephew, Colonel Charles Lewis; with the remaining part of his troops, about five hundred in number, he determined to act as a reserve and defend the fort to extremities.
I happened to be among those who were ordered out, very much against my will; but it was neck or nothing; we advanced about three hundred yards in front of the fort, toward a deep ravine which intersected the valley at the right angles with the Kanawha. All was still as death; one moment more and a yell mingled with the roar of a thousand rifles, rung from river to river, and at the same moment every bush and tree seemed alive with armed savages. Col. Lewis was killed at the first fire, but the rangers maintained their ground, and a contest commenced more desperate and more rapidly fatal than any which had ever, been fought with the Aborigines, excepting that of Talledaga. The Indian Chief, with that promptness for seizing an advantage, and that peculiar military tact for which he was so much renowned, extended his line from the Ohio as far as it would stretch across to the Kanawha bank, for the purpose of out flanking the opposing forces. But, in the execution of this manoeuvre, he was completely foiled by the superior address and boldness of the whites who, animated with revenge for the loss of their leader and a consciousness of their desperate situation, fought with a fury that supplied the inequality of numbers, and set at defiance every stratagem of the savages.
Finding that his method of outflanking would not succeed, the Indian Chief concentrated his forces, and furiously attacked the centre of the Virginia line. The savages, animated by their warlike and noble Chieftain, Cornstalk, forgot the craftiness of their nature, and rushing from their coverts, engaged hand to hand with their stout and hardy adversaries, until the contest resembled more a circus of gladiators than a field of battle. I became desperate; hide where I would, the muzzle of some rifle was gaping in my face, and the wild, distorted, countenance of a savage, rendered more frightful by paint, was rushing towards me with uplifted tomahawk One fellow in particular, seemed to mark me as his victim; I levelled my rifle at him as he came yelling and leaping towards me, and fired. The ball missed my aim. He rose upon his toes with exultation, and whirling his tomahawk round his head, slung it at me with all his powers. I fell upon my face, and it whizzed harmless over my head and stuck into a sapling. I bounded up and forced it from the tree, but the Indian was on me and rescued the hatchet from my hands. I seized him round the waist, enclosing both his arms at the same time and tripping up his heels, we rolled together upon the ground. I at last grew furious, gouged him with my thumbs in both eyes, and seizing him with my teeth by the nose, I bit the whole of it from his face; he yelled out with pain and rage, and letting loose the hatchet to disengage my teeth, I grasped the handle and buried the sharp point into his brains. He gave one convulsive leap which bounced me from his body, and in a moment after expired. I immediately rose, and gaining a secure position behind a tree, remained there till the close of the fight, and made a thousand resolutions, if I survived this engagement, never to be caught in such a scrape again. I kept my word; for, I have never since encountered the savages, and if Heaven forgives me, I never will. There is no fun in it.
But, to return to the history of this ever memorable battle. There was a peninsula extending from a high range of bills running parallel with the Ohio river, which jutted close to the Kanawha bank, about a half a mile from its mouth. Knowing the importance of securing the narrow pass which ran between its base and the river, the Indian Chief dispatched a picked body of his troops to take possession of it. They entered the dry bed of a small creek which skirted the foot of the hills, and pursued their route unnoticed till they were about to enter the important pass, when a shower of rifle bullets pierced their body and swept down the foremost ranks. A chosen band of rangers at’ the same moment made their appearance, with whom General Lewis in anticipation had guarded the pass. A yell of surprise and rage burst from the savage line, and they seconded their returning fire by an unanimous and desperate charge with the hunting-knife. The contest now assumed all the wild and terrific cast which a personal struggle, conducted with the deadly feelings of hate and revenge then existing between the whites and Indians, could inspire. The air was filled with the screams of the savages and the deep imprecations of the riflemen; every blow brought death, and the ground was soon heaped with the corpses of the combatants. But the disappointed efforts of savage desperation were ineffectual against the unbroken and impenetrable column which was maintained by the whites; and the Indians were driven, with the loss of half their force, back upon the main body. Here, the fight still raged in the extremity of opposition, every inch of ground was contested, from behind every bush and decayed log the murderous flash arose, and the continued roar of a thousand rifles vibrated through the forest.
The savage Chieftain discovered that the chances against him were desperate, yet, by his own personal example of courage and address, was the fight long1 sustained, even after his line had been driven, step by step, from their original position. His voice could at intervals be heard, rising above the din of the fight like the shrill blast of a bugle; at one moment, his dusky form and glittering ornaments could be seen flitting through the trees upon the Ohio bank, and his war cry in the next would fill the echoes of the hill at the farthest extremity of the line. A sheering ejaculation of triumph would one moment escape him, as an advantage was gained by the de voted gallantry of some Shawnee warrior; an imprecation upon some skulking Mingoe, in a short time afterwards, would be recognized in his voice. “Charge high and aim low” was his command incessantly throughout the day; and, it is one of the circumstances remarked of that fatal fight, that most of the bullet wounds received by the whites proved mortal; but few of the wounded ever recovered. Yet, all the efforts of the old warrior were vain; defeated and discouraged, the savage army almost abandoned the fight in the latter part of the day, and it was reduced to a mere straggling fire between individuals of the contending parties.
Night closed upon the scene, yet the ground was still occupied by the two armies. Although victorious, the Virginians could neither press their advantage nor retire to rest. An ambuscade or a night attack was expected from the savages, and their behaviour warranted the latter supposition. For, behind a long line of watch-fires, they could be discovered as if cautiously examining the points most open to attack. The wild scream of a savage warrior, apparently advancing to the fight, would at intervals break upon the death-like stillness of the night, and cause my heart to leap almost out of my mouth. I confidently calculated that every moment was the time for their attack, and fancied divers times could hear them stealing through the bushes upon us. The gleams of the morning sun, however, at length illumined the scene, but not a vestige of the Indian army remained; the living and the dead had alike disappeared, and it was not until then, it was ascertained or even suspected, that the savages had secure themselves from interruption, under pretense of a night attack, had thrown their dead, with weights attached to them, in the river, and retreated across it under cover of darkness.
The next morning, Colonel William Christian marched his men over the battlefield, finding 21 dead Indians in the open, and another 12 hidden by brush and old logs. The dead included Pucksinwah, the father of the great Shawnee war chief, Tecumseh. Christian’s men also captured 40 guns, many tomahawks and other plunder.
So ended the brutal Battle of Point Pleasant. Lewis’ men held the battlefield after repulsing Cornstalk’s determined attacks, but the toll had been frightful. Lewis lost 75 killed and 140 wounded, including his brother, Col. John Lewis. Capt. Thomas Buford of Bedford County was mortally wounded and died several days later. Buford, a veteran of the Braddock Expedition during the French & Indian War, was the older brother of Col. Abraham Buford, who found infamy during the 1781 Battle of Waxhaws during the Revolutionary War. Abraham Buford and his younger brother Simeon both served in the Culpeper Minutemen, and helped to depose Lord Dunmore the next year. Simeon Buford was the grandfather of the great Civil War cavalryman, Maj. Gen. John Buford.
Indian casualties are unknown, since Cornstalk either buried the bulk of his dead, or threw them into the river. His losses had to have been similar to those sustained by Lewis. More importantly, Cornstalk’s bloody defeat at Point Pleasant brought a quick end to what became known as Lord Dunmore’s War.
For the next year and a half, until he was exchanged for a British officer captured in the Battle of Saratoga, Williams faced an ordeal that would continue to haunt him for the rest of his life. Initially treated as a gentleman because of his officer status, the first few months of his imprisonment passed in relative ease. The ease of the beginning months of his captivity was the norm for officers taken in civilized 18th century viewed warfare. Williams’ early imprisonment showed the gentleman status he had attained through his rise in the military ranks. During this time, an anecdote reinforces this point.
While in prison in New York, he became acquainted with a Major Ackland of the British military. The two became fast friends. Williams, under the auspices of his imprisonment, was able to move freely through the city of New York with this new friend.The friendship was confirmed when after dining with Major Ackland he was invited to attend an assembly. This was the term used to describe a fashionable ball of the period. When arriving at the ball, the reception that Major Williams received was so contemptuous and full of scorn that it attracted the attention of Major Ackland who replied: “Come, Williams, this society is to ill-bred for you and me; let us go home.” The account shows the personable demeanor and gentlemanly qualities that Williams espoused. This quote only tells half the story. The other half of the account transpired after Major Ackland returned to England that makes this story so worthy.
Upon Ackland’s return to England attended a mass dinner and one of the topics broached was the questionable courage of the American military. The major defended Americans so vehemently that he was issued a duel by a fellow British officer. This led to his demise, with a fatal gunshot wound to the head. To defend the abilities of Americans to such an extreme depicted the immense respect and valued friendship that blossomed between the two officers. Along with showing the respect and admiration that constituted the friendship was the fact that Williams reached a level where he could fraternize with gentlemen of pre-war higher social classes. In addition he was an amiable companion and a worthy military adversary in the views of British counterparts.
A sketch of one of the prison complexes used in New York City by the British to house American soldiers.
The imprisonment of Williams took a drastic turn to the worse when an accusation of espionage surfaced against him. According to the General Phillips, the commandant of New York, Major Williams was in the habit of communicating to General Washington all the information to be collected from the British camp by means of emissaries employed for that purpose. Williams was seized as soon as the accusation was leveled against him and was denied a chance to provide a defense or refutation of the charges. He was placed in the provost jail in New York, in a room about sixteen square feet. The prison cell had poor ventilation and was best described as “disgustingly filthy.”Here Williams languished for approximately eight months; the last of the fifteen months he was a prisoner of war. Although the spying was never verified and for all intents probably a false accusation, Williams’ “naturally fair constitution…was much impaired” by this ordeal.
After his exchange in January 1778, Williams took command of the 6th Maryland Regiment and Williams would see action at Monmouth Court House in the summer of that same year.
Williams headed south with the Maryland Continentals to aid the Southern Department and relieve the American garrison at Charleston, South Carolina. Unfortunately, the American reinforcements arrived too late to lift the siege.
The reinforcements did make it in time for another American military disaster; the Battle of Camden. Plucked as adjutant general for Horatio Gates, the American commander, Williams was powerless to stop the route of march that Gates chose to move the American army from North Carolina to South Carolina.
The condition of the troops, fatigued from the march along with other difficulties, mixed with very limited rations would prove fatal tomorrow to the American effort at Camden. What ensued the following day was the death of General Kalb, the lost of over 1,000 American soldiers, and the ruin of Gates military career as a field commander. The way the battle unfolded would haunt Williams for the rest of his life, which was recorded in a written component for the Papers of Nathanael Greene. He remembered how the “great majority of the militia fled without firing a shot.” This was a significant issue because the militia comprised two-thirds of the total force of Gates! Williams, along with the survivors were left to question the reasons behind the campaign, the strenuous marching, and the condition they were led into battle with.
Williams took part in the strategic move north across the Dan River in Southern Virginia, part of Nathanael Greene’s strategic maneuvering in the face of British Lord Charles Cornwallis’ British forces. Able to recuperate and refit his army across the watery boundary from the British, Greene planned the strategy that would lead Williams and the rest of the Americans back to North Carolina and to a place called Guilford Court House.
After serving a stint as a commander of light infantry, Williams played a pivotal role in the March 15, 1781 Battle of Guilford Court House. Serving in the last line, where other Marylanders of the 1st Maryland Continentals played a decisive role in saving Nathanael Greene’s American army, Williams helped lead the rear-guard away from Guilford Court House.
Williams would continue to serve admirable in future engagements at Hobkirk’s Hill and Eutaw Springs. In the later stages of 1781 Williams was given command of the 1st Maryland Regiment, the same unit that the famous painting below depicted at the Battle of Guilford Court House.
1st Maryland Continentals at Battle of Guilford Court House
In January 1783, Williams received notice that Congress had approved his promotion to brigadier general on account of his merit and service in the Southern Theater Campaigns.
Approimately halfway through that same month, on the 16th, Williams retired from the army.
After almost eight years of arduous service, Williams, like the nation he helped create by his service was a changed being. The changes were numerous, first being the obvious, that he had shown tremendous progress in climbing the officer ranks, from lieutenant in 1775 to brigadier general in 1783. Secondly, and possibly the most important he had endured through numerous campaigns and some of the bloodiest battles of the war, from Fort Washington in New York to Camden in South Carolina.
Williams return to civilian life saw him appointed as commissioner of the Port of Baltimore and he was active in the Society of Cincinnati, the society created to preserve the fellowship of former officers of the American army during the Revolution.
In 1786 Williams married Mary Smith and became a father to four sons, settling on the banks of the Potomac River where he tried his hand at farming.
Springfield Farm, home of Otho Holland Williams (courtesy of HMDB.org)
With his friendship to George Washington, Williams had his appointment as commissioner of the Port of Baltimore renewed and then in 1792 was approached by Henry Knox, Secretary of War in Washington’s administration (and at the behest of Washington) to see whether he would accept a commission as brigadier general in the regular army.
Although the position would have made Williams the second highest ranking officer in the military, he declined the position because he had no ambition for the position and also his health was poor.
Williams died on July 15, 1794. He was 45 years old. His health never recovered from the strains of imprisonment and the fatigues of war.
The town of Williamsport, Maryland, which would play a prominent role in the Gettysburg Campaign of 1863 was named after him and where he was laid to rest.
“One if by land, two if by sea; and I on the opposite shore will be, ready to ride and spread the alarm through every Middlesex village and farm, for the country folk to be up and to alarm.” When I was a boy, these words from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s poem “The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere” truly stirred within me an excitement that I don’t think has ever really left me. I hadn’t visited Boston mind you, but I could still envision the outline of that brave horseman as he paced along the shore of the Charles River, “booted and spurred” and wearing his cocked hat and long riding cloak. He waited and he watched. He was waiting for the signal in the belfry of the Old North Church that would tell him which direction the Lobsterbacks would be taking that night on their march to Concord.
Paul Revere
Yes sir, Paul Revere was a hero of mine early on. Right up there with Daniel Boone and Davy Crockett. It would be years, though, before I would learn the real story of what happened that night, April 18, 1775. During my first visit to Boston a few years ago, I crossed the bridge that spans the Charles River, near where the USS Constitution is now moored. Longfellow’s poem has fooled many since its publication in 1861. It’s true, Paul Revere, Boston silversmith, member of the Sons of Liberty, and Messenger of the Revolution, crossed the river near that spot. He met up with local militia leaders on the Charlestown side. The steeple of Christ Church in Boston’s North End, the Old North Church it was also called, did indeed shine forth with the light of two lanterns, hung there by its young sexton Robert Newman. It was a message alright but Longfellow got it backwards. It wasn’t a message to Paul Revere but, rather, it was a message from Paul Revere!
One of the Lanterns
The North End of Boston is still what we would today call a blue collar place. Its streets are narrow and the buildings are close-packed. The Paul Revere House, at 19 North Square, is surrounded by modern buildings and businesses. Didn’t matter to me though as I strolled through the house on a self-guided tour. I found myself struck as I exited from the back door and walked down the back steps; probably the same exit route taken by Revere himself that night as he left home and headed down to the water to retrieve the small boat he kept hidden there. Like a lot of historic areas, you sometimes have to use your “mind’s eye” to envision what things were really like. As I looked around North Square, I envisioned how Mr. Revere’s world would have looked. At last, on that first trip to Boston, I was following in the footsteps of Paul Revere!
Paul Revere House
Over on Salem Street stands Christ Church; the Old North Church from history. The sanctuary is still beautiful. If it were allowed, I surely would’ve climbed to the top of the steeple as Robert Newman did on April 18th. Revere and may other members of the Sons of Liberty had already learned, through mysterious sources, of the secret plans of British General Thomas Gage to march a hand-picked force of light infantry troops and a handful of Royal Marines to the village of Concord, some 20 miles west of Boston to seize the colony’s powder stores. By all accounts, General Gage was a good and virtuous man; a veteran of the fight on Braddock’s Field in 1755. He arranged his plans to secretly snatch up the colony’s stores of powder and shot in order to help stop any further bloodshed should tensions continue to boil over into violence. But it was not to be.
Old North Church
Many of the troops who would be making the march later that evening were quartered in buildings near the Old North Church. In fact, Mr. Newman’s signal lights were actually seen by the regulars. As an officer banged hard on the wooden doors in the front of the church, wanting to know what was going on; Robert Newman stole silently through a rear window to make his escape. As he was known to carry about his person a set of keys to the church he would later be arrested and detained.
Back Window of the Old North Church
By the same token, Revere knew the risks he himself would be taking in having friends row him across the Charles River after the hour when no further civilian traffic was allowed. They would pass under the guns of the HMS Somerset, the man-of-war that was posted in the river to block all nocturnal travel between Boston and Charlestown. Hence, the signal. In case Revere was stopped, he had arranged for Robert Newman to make the signal of two lanterns in the belfry, to communicate to the Patriots in Charlestown that the regulars would be crossing Boston’s Back Bay, near Cambridge, on their march. “Two if by sea.”
The signal was sent and Revere made it to Charlestown. He borrowed a horse, Brown Beauty, and galloped off but not to Concord; he was heading for Lexington. Down to the south, along Boston Neck, passed another rider, by the name of William Dawes. The mission for both men was the same: reach Lexington in time to warn patriots Sam Adams and John Hancock that the regulars were out! Both men made it to Lexington, with Revere arriving first. They delivered their message.
Although many consider it to be the beginning of the American Revolution, few Americans are familiar with the conflict known as Lord Dunmore’s War. It featured one battle, the Battle of Point Pleasant, fought on October 10, 1774 at Point Pleasant, which is the confluence of the Kanawha and Ohio Rivers in modern-day West Virginia. This series of four blog posts will focus on Lord Dunmore’s War, and will place it in its proper historical context.
John Murray, a Scot who was the fourth Earl of Dunmore, commonly known as Lord Dunmore, was the final colonial governor of the Virginia colony. The conflict that became known as Lord Dunmore’s War was a dispute over who would control the area south of the Ohio River, known as the Ohio Country. The Iroquois Confederacy claimed that land, although other tribes, including the Shawnee, also hunted that land. Disputes over control of this area were among the primary triggers of the French & Indian War (otherwise known as the Seven Years’ War), which cost France control of the region.
When the British claimed control over those lands at the end of the French & Indian War, the Indians refused to cede control of their hunting grounds, and prepared to defend them. The Shawnee were the most powerful of the tribes aligned against the Iroquois, and they organized a large confederacy of tribes opposed to the British and the Iroquois to defend their claims to the Ohio Country. British diplomacy largely isolated the Shawnee, and they soon stood largely alone against the British.
Shortly after the treaty ending the French & Indian War, British settlers and surveyors pouted into the area, immediately bringing them into conflict with the Indians. As early as September 1773, Indians attacked white settled in Kentucky County, Virginia and captured and tortured to death Daniel Boone’s son James and another man. By December, word of this atrocity reached newspapers in Baltimore and Philadelphia. For the next several years, Indian raiding parties regularly attacked settlers, mutilated and tortured the men to death and enslaved their women and children.
Capt. Michael Cresap established a trade post at Redstone Old Fort near present-day Brownsville, Pennsylvania on the Monongahela River. Under Lord Dunmore’s authority, Cresap seized control of land at and below the mouth of Middle Island Creek near present-day Sistersville, West Virginia. In the spring of 1774, he traveled there to settle his holdings. A second group, led by Ebenezer Zane, had established a settlement at the mouth of Sandy Creek, near present-day Ravenswood, West Virginia. A third, and larger, group that included the famous future explorer George Rogers Clark, settled at the mouth of the Kanawha River near modern-day Parkersburg, West Virginia. They were waiting there for other Virginians who intended to settle lands in Kentucky.
Soon, word filtered in that hostile Indians regularly attacked, robbed and killed traders, surveyors and other travelers down the Ohio River. They soon concluded that the Shawnee and their allies were determined to go to war. Consequently, they decided on a preemptive strike: they would strike an Ohio Indian village called Horsehead Bottom near the mouth of the Scioto River at modern-day Portsmouth, Ohio. They chose Cresap, who had military experience, to lead this raiding party.
Cresap talked them out of launching the attack on the Shawnee village because he did not believe that war was inevitable. If they carried out their attack, they would trigger an all-out war and would be blamed for it. He persuaded them to go to Zane’s settlement (present-day Wheeling, West Virginia) wait and see what would happen. However, tales of savagery by the Indians riled up the countryside, and the ranks swelled with men itching to attack the Shawnee.
Capt. John Connolly, the garrison commander at Fort Pitt sent word to Zane’s settlement to wait for a few days because he had sent messages to the local tribes to determine their intentions. Connolly soon sent a message indicating that the Shawnee and their allies intended war. On April 28, 1774, Cresap convened a meeting where he read Connolly’s letter to the assembled group, which then declared war against the Indians.
On April 29, settlers spotted Indian canoes on the river and chased them about fifteen miles downriver to Pipe Creek, where they attacked the Indians. A skirmish occurred, with both sides taking a few casualties. On April 30, Clark’s party abandoned its plan to go to Kentucky, broke camp, and joined Cresa’s men at Redstone Old Fort.
Immediately after the Pipe Creek attack, settlers attacked and killed relatives of the Mingo leader, Logan at their camp on the west bank of the Ohio River at Yellow Creek, near present-day Steubenville, Ohio. Until that moment, Logan had not indicated any intention to go to war. A party of about 30 Mingos, including Logan’s younger brother, known as John Petty and two related women (including one who was pregnant and an infant), crossed the Ohio and visited the cabin of a settler named Joshua Baker. A group of 30 frontiersmen suddenly barged into Baker’s cabin and killed all of the Mingos but the baby.
Logan blamed Cresap for the attack, even though Cresap had nothing to do with it. Realizing that this would now rile up the Indians, most of the area’s settlers sought protection either in blockhouses, or by heading east across the Allegheny Mountains. They had good reason to be alarmed: the Mingos and Shawnee began striking settlers, seeking revenge.
On May 5, 1774, the Shawnee had the following message delivered to Captain Connolly at Fort Pitt:
Brothers:
We have received your Speeches by White Eyes, and as to what Mr. Croghan and Mr. McKee says, we look upon it all to be lies, and perhaps what you say may be lies also, but as it is the first time you have spoke to us we listen to you, and expect that what we may hear from you will be more confined to truth than what we usually hear from the white people. It is you who are frequently passing up and down the Ohio, and making settlements upon it, and as you have informed as that your wise people have met together to consult upon this matter, we desire you to be strong and consider it well. Brethren: We see you speak to us at the head of your warriors, who you have collected together at sundry places upon this river, where we understand they are building forts, and as you have requested us to listen to you, we will do it, but in the same manner that you appear to speak to us. Our people at the Lower Towns have no Chiefs among them, but are all warriors, and are also preparing themselves to be in readiness, that they may be better able to hear what you have to say….You tell us not to take any notice of what your people have done to us; we desire you likewise not to take any notice of what our young men may now be doing, and as no doubt you can command your warriors when you desire them to listen to you, we have reason to expect that ours will take the same advice when we require it, that is, when we have heard from the Governour [sic] of Virginia.
Responding to word that fighting had begun along the Ohio River, Lord Dunmore asked the Virginia legislature to authorize general militia forces and to fund a volunteer expedition to the Ohio River valley to quell these disturbances. He planned to march into the Ohio Valley and force the Indians to accept Ohio River boundary that had been negotiated with the Iroquois as part of the 1768 Treaty of Fort Stanwix, which ended the French and Indian War. Dunmore realized that this expedition presented a prime opportunity to open new lands to expansion of the Virginia colony, a policy he had pursued for years. Dunmore, who vehemently opposed the rebellion brewing in Massachusetts, recognized that this expedition could also help to divert the attention of the Virginia colonists from the crisis growing in Boston. He hoped that the Virginia citizenry would rally around his administration rather than joining the rebels in New England. He also hoped to secure Virginia’s claim to the area around Fort Pitt and also remove the threat of the Indian tribes opposed to the settlement of the Ohio Country and Kentucky. It was a bold gamble that could cost Dunmore his position as governor if it failed.
A large force of Virginia militia mustered and advanced toward the Ohio River. Dunmore split his force into two groups: 1,700 men under Dunmore’s personal command that would move down the Ohio from Fort Pitt and another 800 men under command of Col. Andrew Lewis, which would travel from Camp Union (modern-day Lewisburg, West Virginia), which would rendezvous with Dunmore’s column near Point Pleasant at the mouth of the Kanawha River. Dunmore’s column arrived at Fort Fincastle—at modern-day Wheeling—on September 30, while Lewis’ column—now 1100 strong—arrived at the mouth of the Kanawha on October 6 after a grueling 19 day march through the mountainous wilderness. Lewis established Camp Pleasant there, and sent messengers up the Ohio River to find Dunmore. On October 9, Dunmore sent a dispatch announcing his plan to proceed to the Shawnee towns on the Scioto River, and ordered Lewis to cross the Ohio River and meet him at the Shawnee towns.
The stage was now set for the decisive battle of what became known as Lord Dunmore’s War.
How time and memory have not been kind to the most important campaign in American history.
Nearly a million people visit Gettysburg every year. Those visitors stand at Little Round Top or on Cemetery Ridge and reflect on what happened there in the summer of 1863. They go to Gettysburg because it is remembered as a major turning point in the Civil War and where the fate of the entire nation hung in the balance for a few days. How would the world have been different had General Meade’s left flank collapsed on July 2nd or had Robert E. Lee’s desperate frontal assault on July 3rd been successful? Gettysburg is a place where one can ponder this and the sheer number of books, articles, monuments and visitors prove how important this narrative is to the American people.
Not too far away in New Jersey is the location of another major turning point in American history that does not draw millions of tourists. Often termed “the ten crucial days”, the Battles of Trenton and Princeton during the American Revolution saved the United States from imminent destruction during the Revolutionary War, but the actions do not hold the same mantle of importance that Gettysburg holds in American public memory.
The most iconic reminder in public memory of the 1776 winter campaign is the famous Emmanuel Leutze painting Washington Crossing the Delaware. The actual location of the crossing was actually preserved and are now state parks, but unfortunately many people don’t know about the context of the crossing nor the intense battles that followed.
The idea of a free and independent United States of America never came closer to complete collapse than in December of 1776. General George Washington’s military campaign that winter ultimately changed everything. Washington’s starving, freezing, and disintegrating army dramatically crossed an ice-choked Delaware River on Christmas night, marched nine miles and then attacked and defeated a Hessian garrison in Trenton. A few days later the British army descended on Washington’s force, nearly captured them all, but a daring night flank march moved Washington’s men around the British flank and struck the British rearguard at Princeton. Then they quickly escaped to western New Jersey, forcing the British back to New York City. These engagements electrified the colonies and the world and secured an immortal place in history for George Washington and his small, ragged Continental Army. British historian G.M. Trevelyan even stated “it may be doubted whether so small a number of men ever employed so short a space of time with greater or more lasting results upon the history of the world.”[1]
John Trumbull’s painting of the Surrender of Colonel Rall at Trenton. Trenton was Washington’s most lopsided victory, having only lost a couple men to wounds and death, while crushing and forcing the surrender of most of Rall’s force.
While the Battles of Trenton and Princeton were exponentially smaller in size and scale than the Battle of Gettysburg, the impact of the battles (and the campaign) could be placed on the same or higher importance than Gettysburg. So why is this 1776 turning point not remembered on the same scale as the 1863 turning point? There are probably many reasons for this, though none of them though fully justify this contrast in public memory.
While the Revolutionary War overall is not as popular as the Civil War, a major reason one could argue is the lack of a well-interpreted battlefield. The Battle of Trenton is memorialized today only by a 19th century monument to Washington and the victors and a few small bronze plaques located throughout the modern city. A small state-run museum, the Old Barracks, is the only facility that interprets the history of the campaign in the city. Needless to say, one million visitors are not making pilgrimages to this museum and honestly, most would not want to walk the ground where the soldiers fought since those former town roads are now crime ridden city streets. Every year a small reenactment takes place in the city, but it is little advertised and sparsely attended, the largest having been in 2001 for the 225th anniversary which included thousands of reenactors. Nearby in Princeton, a small state park preserves a portion of the battlefield land, while other parts of the battlefield are about to be developed by a research institute.
Compare the upper images of modern downtown Trenton, site of the major turning point in the Revolutionary War (upper left), and Trenton’s monument to the victors located where Washington was positioned during the battle (upper right) with the lower images of visitors walking the ground of Pickett’s Charge at Gettysburg battlefield (lower left) and the tens of thousands of visitors who paid to watch a Gettysburg reenactment in 2013. (lower right)
This is as an excellent example of the importance of battlefield preservation. Trenton, with no interpreted battlefield park land, no National Park Service presence, nor even a city trail (i.e., Boston’s Freedom Trail), doesn’t have much to entice visitors to explore the ground where the battle actually happened. This seems to be a problem with many Revolutionary War battlefields. While some battlefields like Cowpens, Guilford Courthouse, Saratoga and Yorktown are preserved by the National Park Service and have staff working to interpret their place in history, these are in the minority. Battlefields like Brandywine, Green Springs, Camden, and Eutaw Springs are only partially preserved and minimally interpreted. Many significant Revolutionary War battlefields like White Plains, Brooklyn, Kip’s Bay, Fort Washington, Charleston, and Savannah are all places where development have obscured the memory of the battles that occurred there. Unfortunately, many people incorrectly believe that all the battlefields of the Revolution have all been totally lost because of development. The Revolutionary War then has become more about the ideals and thoughts that have been interpreted at historic homes and in Philadelphia, than as a major, bloody, painful war in which thousands paid the ultimate sacrifice and in which the fortunes of the nation moved with the military.
Washington rallies his troops at Princeton. In one of his greatest acts of personal bravery he rode to within 30 yards of British troops, exclaimed “Parade with us, my brave fellows! There is but a handful of the enemy and we shall have them directly!”[2] This helped raise the morale of the American troops and turned the tide of the battle. Thankfully, the Civil War Trust has launched a nation-wide effort to preserve remaining Revolutionary War battlefields (Campaign 1776). But we must go beyond just saving battlefield land. We must spread the word of these amazing deeds and build excitement and interest in these places. And while it truly helps to have a well-preserved battlefield, it is just as important to stand on the modern city streets and remember that it was at these locations, beneath the modern concrete, that patriots fought and bled to create an independent American nation.
[1] Trevalyan, George Otto. The American Revolution: Part III. London: Longmans, Green, and Company, 1907. 113.
[2] Fisher, David Hackett. Washington’s Crossing. New York: Oxford University Press, 2004. 334.
On October 19, 1781, General George Washington had one of the ultimate highs in his military career. With the help of the French army and navy, Washington forced the surrender of British Lord Charles Cornwallis’ forces at Yorktown, Virginia.
To best sum up the impact of this momentous victory for the Americans in their cause for independence, British Prime Minister Lord Frederick North exclaimed when receiving the news:
“Oh God, it’s all over.”
But, weeks before North learned of the calamity in the Tidewater of Virginia, Washington dealt with his own calamity. One very personal. The death of his stepson.
John Parke Custis, affectionately known as “Jackie” or “Jack” as he got older, was one of two children that Martha Custis Washington brought into the marriage with George Washington on January 6, 1759.
John Parke Custis
The other child, Martha Park Custis, known as “Patsy” had died in 1773 of an epileptic seizure.
Now, seventeen days after the successful completion of the Siege of Yorktown, Jack Custis would be dead.
Custis had joined his stepfather as a volunteer aide-de-camp for the Yorktown Campaign and contracted “camp fever” a catch-all term for a whole litany of illnesses. With the disease quickly causing his health to fail, Custis had one last wish before leaving the lines at Yorktown. He wanted to see the surrender, so faithful attendants lifted Custis in a stretcher to the top of one of the redoubts.
From there Custis had a complete view of the proceedings, the crowning achievement of his stepfather.
To remove him from the scene of pestilence and in a hopeful attempt to save 26-years old life, Custis was moved 30 miles up the Tidewater Peninsula of Virginia to Eltham Landing, where his uncle, Burwell Bassett owned a plantation. His mother, Martha and wife, Eleanor Calvert Custis was summoned to his bedside.
Before Washington could arrive at the bedstead, Jack died on November 5, 1781. He was the last of five children Martha had given birth too. Martha was, understandably, slipped into a “deep and solemn distress.” Even the general exhibited some rarely seen emotion, And”clasping his [Jack’s] bereaved widow to his bosom and proclaiming that henceforth he regarded Jacky’s two youngest children as his own.”
Jack was buried in the family plot near Williamsburg, Virginia at Queen’s Creek.
The funeral was a week later and afterward Washington accompanied Martha and Eleanor back to Mount Vernon. George and Martha Washington would spend considerable energy in the pursuing years raising their late son/stepson’s children. Jack’s widow, Eleanor, would leave the two youngest children in the care of the Washington’s and by war’s end had remarried to a Dr. David Stewart of Alexandria in which the couple would have 16 more children.
But, all that was in the future. In the meantime, after leaving Mount Vernon in mid-November, George Washington had a revolution to see through to its successful conclusion.
The loss of his stepson, whose limited service in the war does not diminish the anguish felt by his family, put Washington in the company of countless parents whose sons had given their lives in the same cause.
And the war had approximately two years left in America.
When most Americans think of Valley Forge the image of a cold, harsh and bleak winter landscape tends to spring to mind. They remember from their history books that this was the place where Gen. George Washington’s rag-tag Continental Army suffered greatly from the harsh elements. While Pennsylvania winters are rarely mild, the winter of 1777-1778 was not as harsh as what the army would later endure at Morristown, NJ. What truly plagued Washington’s army that winter at the Forge was a want of supplies: food, medicine, blankets, shoes, clothing, etc… If there was ever a time in the life of this army when the boys could have called it quits, when they could have disbanded and just gone home…..then Valley Forge would have been the place for it.
National Memorial Arch
I took my family to visit Valley Forge National Historical Park near the Schuylkill River, west of Philadelphia not long ago. Out of season, of course. It was a warm day in July when the five of us meandered through the little visitor’s center and museum and then drove along the park roads trying to take in everything this immense site had to offer. Entertaining three teenagers packed in a minivan isn’t always the easiest thing to do on a history tour but they seemed impressed with the National Memorial Arch, standing majestically alone on its green hilltop.
My attention, not surprisingly, was drawn to the restored cabins where the soldiers spent their winter days and nights and by the beautiful stone Potts House in which Washington lived and, along with his military “family”, used as headquarters. But this trip would prove to be an eye-opener for me.
Restored Cabins
As we cruised along the park roads, through beautiful rolling hills, we came upon what is called The Grand Parade. It’s a large, grassy, open field bordered by trees that stands nearly in the center of the park. At first glance it appears no different than any other large, grassy, open field bordered by trees, but there is something extra special about this one. For this was the scene where, some 238 years ago, Washington’s regiments and battalions marched and drilled during that long winter.
Baron Von Steuben
Standing on one side of the field is a statue; the man who’s responsibility it would become to train these men in the European military fashion. Friedrich Wilhelm August Heinrich Ferdinand Steuben, known as Baron von Steuben, came to America on the recommendation of none other than Benjamin Franklin. He was a veteran of the Prussian Army, he said; had attained the rank of Lieutenant General and served directly under the military genius Frederick the Great. At Valley Forge that winter, he would serve as a volunteer and would be appointed temporary Inspector General. As the historical record would later show, Steuben did serve as aide-de-camp to Frederick the Great but never attained a rank higher than that of captain. While his claim to rank and privilege was questionable at best and downright false at worst, Baron van Steuben would nonetheless prove invaluable to the United States. As an officer of the Prussian Army, he had the knowledge and skill necessary for training men in the art of war. He was the right man, for the right job, at just the right time.
The Baron spoke not a word of English; his orders had to be translated, but the manual of training he would compose was such that it turned a hungry, tattered, exhausted mass of farm boys and mechanics into a well-disciplined fighting force. He would mold them into an army.
Potts House
Unlike his British counterparts, George Washington was never to have a fully veteran army. Indeed, there were some men who served for the duration of the war but, by and large, enlistments expired and men returned to their homes, farms and families. But because of the training provided by this somewhat eccentric European who spoke and swore in German, the soldiers of the Army of the United States would go on to match the best in the world. On the field at Monmouth Courthouse in 1780, these men would prove their mettle. While the initial attack stalled, due mainly to poor leadership, the defensive position they would establish, under the watchful eye of their Commander-In-Chief, would prove the worth of their training. These lads stood off the best army in the world. And it all came together right here, on The Grand Parade at Valley Forge.
The Grand Parade
As I stood beside that statue on a warm day in July and gazed out on this wide open space, in my mind’s eye I could see those boys drilling; first by squad, then by company, then by regiment. I could see it all unfolding before me on this unassuming field. It looks like any other field you may pass on a drive in the country, but this field is where the war would change for the United States. This field, by God, was the birthplace of the American Army.
General Edward Braddock’s grave, near Fort Necessity
Recently myself and two other Emerging Rev War authors took a trek to the mountains of western Virginia, Maryland and Pennsylvania to follow in the footsteps of George Washington in 1754-1758. Washington played a significant role in the beginning of the French and Indian War. These were the developmental years for Washington, here he learned lessons of leadership, military command and gained the experience that earned him the future Commander in Chief of the Continental Army in 1775.
Rebuilt cabin from Fort Cumberland
One of the best ways to follow in the footsteps of Washington during this time period is to start in Cumberland, MD. Here, Fort Cumberland served as the stepping off point for many expeditions to the frontier. Today, the fort is gone but the location is well marked and interpreted. The City of Cumberland has established a walking trail and outlined the boundaries of the fort. Also, a restored cabin interprets Washington’s time at Fort Cumberland. From here, one can easily follow the famous “Braddock Road” by taking Rt. 40 west (the National Road).
Washington’s “fort” at Fort Necessity National Battlefield
A must see site along Braddock’s Road is Fort Necessity National Battlefield Park. Here the young and inexperienced George Washington found himself in July 1754 surrounded by French and their Native American allies. As one gazes across the ‘Great Meadows” and see the small fort Washington built, one has to ask themselves “what was HE thinking?!” The newly built visitor center and museum is excellent and worth the small fee. The park preserves the site of the July 1754 battle, portions of the original Braddock Road and the early 19th century Mount Washington Tavern (that was built along the old National Road). Nearby is Braddock’s Grave (buried after the disaster near Fort Pitt where he was mortally wounded). Further north is Jumonville Glen. Of all the places I have been, this place represents the most pristine historic spot. Here in June 1754, Washington started the French and Indian War. When one views the spot today, it is easy to take yourself back to 1754 and there is a real sense of history here. Here Washington led his first command, here Washington set the stage that would lead him to command the Continental Army in 1775.
The Church Brew Works
The Fort Pitt Museum, now managed by the Heinz History Center, provides a great timeline and history of the “forks of the Ohio” and also includes a rotating exhibit space. Since we had followed the route of Braddock all the way from Cumberland, Maryland we decided to visit North Braddock, PA. Here is where the French and Indians virtually destroyed the British force sent to capture Fort Duquesne under General Edward Braddock (Washington served as one of his aides). The battlefield is gone today to major development in the early 20th centuries with local steel mills. Unfortunately for the town, the collapse of the steel industry has left this once thriving town very much depressed. But, one new bright spot is the Braddock’s Battlefield History Center. Finally the story of Braddock and the battle along the Monongahela is being told. The museum is worth a visit and the building is a testament to the efforts of an all volunteer organization led by Robert T. Messner. While in Pittsburgh, a great place for a bite to eat or drink, a visit to Church Brew Works. This local brew pub/restaurant is located in a former 1902 Roman Catholic Church. The food and beer are excellent.
Fort Pitt blockhouse, only remaining structure from Fort PittOutline of the French Fort Duquesne, with the Forks of the Ohio in the distance
The Braddock’s Battlefield Visitor CenterThis statue of Washington is near where the British were attacked by the French near Fort Pitt
The Bushy Run Battlefield is a hidden gem near the historic “Forbes Road” (modern day Rt. 30). This much over looked battle of “Pontiac’s War” between the British and Native American warriors is well preserved and interpreted through great museum exhibits.
Bushy Run Battlefield, where the British made their “Flour Bag Fort”New monument at Bushy Run Battlefield
Finally, the highlight of the trip was Fort Ligonier. I have read about the fort and the historic site, but was pleasantly surprised by what I consider THE best museum on the French and Indian War. The museum attached to the reconstructed fort has a full exhibit on the history of Fort Ligonier and also a large exhibit on the entire French and Indian War. Artifacts range from Prussian firearms to Indian chain mail armor (yes, from Delhi, India!). All nations that fought in this “first” world war are represented. It is an exhibit that one would not expect at a small historic site. The reconstructed fort itself is an excellent representation of 18th century fortifications. The fort is fully interpreted, with all the buildings recreated on their original locations. If you are within 100 miles of Ligonier, PA…this is a MUST see museum/historic site.
Fort LigonierFort Ligonier
For more information to take your own “French and Indian War Trek”, see the websites below.
When I was completing my graduate degree in American history from George Mason University a few years back, I took on the challenge of trying to examine the motivations of American soldiers during the American Revolutionary War.
The basis was to examine, “why they fought” if I can borrow a line used frequently by Civil War scholars and historians.
Being a native Marylander, I narrowed my focus on soldiers from that colony/state.
Yet, I was struck by the continued emergence of one name in particular and this gentleman became a focal point of mine.
This gentleman became through the war and could not be ignored with any mention of Maryland and her patriotic citizenry’s service in the war. His name is Otho Holland Williams.
Otho Holland Williams
First a little background on Otho Holland Williams. Otho Williams’ early life mirrors that of many early American colonists. His parents, Joseph and Prudence Holland Williams were born and married in Wales before emigrating to the colonies and settling in Prince George’s County, Maryland.
Otho was born on March 1, 1749, one of eight children. The following year the family moved to western Maryland, settling near the mouth of Conococheauge Creek in Frederick County. Life on the frontiers of the British North American colonies could be rough and hard and before Otho reached adulthood, he lost his father. However, he showed enough promise and potential to be entrusted by a brother-in-law to a clerk position in Frederick County. Showing his ability to grasp a new skill, the young Williams rose to be given “final charge” of the clerk’s office before moving on to a clerk position in the larger town of Baltimore at age eighteen in 1757.
In Baltimore, Williams continued to enhance his reputation and business prospects. After seventeen years in the spiraling, busy port town situated on the Chesapeake Bay, Williams moved back to more familiar grounds in Frederick in 1774. With the move, he entered into the merchant trade, overseeing commercial enterprises in the growing town. Williams was building a respectable life and he would have been considered a gentleman.
However, nothing truly remarkable had happened to cause this ordinary British colonist in Maryland to be remembered by history. Events transpiring on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean soon reared an opportunity for Williams to change that.
Otho Holland Williams now 26 years of age, at the direction of the Committee of Observation of Frederick County, Md, on the 21st of June, 1775, would have heard of a letter from the Delegates of Maryland asking for the formation of two companies of “expert Riflemen to be raised” to join the army near Boston.
The gist of that correspondence is below:
“A letter from the Delegates of Maryland, and a resolve of the Congress enclosed therein, were read, requiring two companies of expert Riflemen to be furnished by this County, to join the army near Boston, to be there employed as Light-Infantry, under the command of the Chief officer of that Army
In the second company, Williams was elected one of three lieutenants and within the month was marching north to join the army, arriving in Cambridge in 22 days, marching over 550 miles, which needless to say gave a great first impression on the military officers and one that the future Commander-in-Chief George Washington would realize in New York.
George Washington was using this house as his headquarters when Williams and the Maryland riflemen arrived after a 550 mile trek to report for duty (courtesy of Mt. Vernon)
In January 1776, Capt. Price, of the rifle company, was promoted to major in Col. William Smallwood’s Maryland Regiment. The gentleman who replaced Price was Williams who succeeded him as captain. Williams’ star continued to rise and in June 1776 was appointed major in Colonel Hugh Stephenson’s newly organized rifle regiment. He was still a major in November when he saw action in New York.
While other Marylanders serving valiantly but unsuccessfully in the opening engagements of the battles around New York City, further the Hudson River stood Fort Washington and stationed there was the rifle company that Otho Williams was a member of.
Upriver from New York City the Americans had constructed two forts on either side of the Hudson River. On the island of Manhattan stood Fort Washington, named in honor of the commander-in-chief of the Continental Army. On the other bluff, stood Fort Lee named in honor of Charles Lee, a major general in the American army that had overseen the defense of New York City prior to the Continental Army’s arrival. Nathanael Greene, the very capable American general convinced General Washington that his namesake fort could be held and although of a different opinion initially, Washington relented to his subordinate. The decision would have dire consequences for Williams and the men in the rifle regiment.
Before discussing the role of Williams and his gallant band of riflemen in the defense of Fort Washington, one fact that cannot be looked over is the rapid rise that Williams had undertaken. The mere fact that a young boy, with no prior military experience, could rise to the rank of major was truly exceptional.
To rise to that similar rank in the British army would depend more on family prestige and the ability to pay the price for the commission. That this was not the case in the American army was a sign of the difference in ideals and make-up of the military. The American colonies were revolting against the aristocratic regime of Great Britain, so to imitate their promotion mechanisms would seem out of place with the republican ideals espoused by the aspiring new republic. Furthermore, the ability to navigate the command structure with the added benefit of superior’s being promoted or more morbid, die, allowed Williams to rise.
However, the previous mentioned attribute only tell a portion of the career so far of Williams. His commitment and perseverance to the cause had been duly noted and he would soon show the coolness and battlefield leadership that would cement his rise through the officer ranks.
Battle of Fort Washington, 1776
Williams commanded men of the rifle company occupied a portion of the outlying trenches that surrounded the fort because of a very grave insight the defenses in the environs of Fort Washington could not accommodate the number of American defenders. In their exposed position, the men from Maryland and Virginia would come into contact with their British and Hessian counterparts in the opening stages of the conflict on November 16, 1776. The action commenced in the morning and would be an all-day, drawn out conflict, the epitome of a “fight to the death” type battle. Part of the reason the affair turned out to be so relentless and bloody was the fact that the Americans had refused to surrender the fort initially and the ensuing action could quite possibly result in the British and their allies showing no quarter if the Americans suffered defeat.
History does not depict whether the men with Williams and under the command of Colonel Rawlings knew this fact, but what they did know was that they had been given an assignment to defend the fort and the men from Virginia and Maryland were prepared to do just that.
Map of Battle of Fort Washington (courtesy of Wiki)
Unfortunately, after facing overwhelming odds and the collapse of other sections of the American lines, Williams and his men were forced to fall back from their exposed positions. During the action Colonel Rawlings received a severe wound to the leg, resulting in a fracture of the bone. Serving as second in command, Williams assumed command of the rifle regiment, continuing to show his unwillingness to yield the field even after suffering a severe groin wound.
With the wound and the collapse of the American lines, he did not command for long. The survivors of the regiment, along with the rest of the fort’s garrison, surrendered to the British and German forces.
After the conflict, a Hessian survivor remarked about attacking the Maryland riflemen, in which Williams was most likely in command of; that “he had a hard time of it.” Another enemy soldier noted the inordinate number of wounded. Official casualty reports, listed 2,780 Americans, including Williams, as prisoners of war, and another 149 were killed and wounded. The British lost 458 killed, wounded, and missing during the day long fight.
Why did Boston’s act of political vandalism lead to a British military expedition against small towns in Massachusetts sixteen months later?
Emerging Revolutionary War Era 