“Remember, it is the fifth of March, a day ever to be forgotten; avenge the death of your brethren,”

In March 1776, a quiet hill overlooking Boston Harbor became one of the first turning points of the American Revolutionary War. Dorchester Heights, rising above the southern approaches to Boston in what is now South Boston, played a decisive role in forcing the British Army to evacuate the city. The dramatic occupation and fortification of the Heights by American forces under General George Washington transformed a long, grinding siege into a strategic victory that reshaped the war’s momentum.

After the battles of Lexington and Concord in April 1775 and the bloody clash at Bunker Hill in June, British forces under General Thomas Gage and then William Howe found themselves effectively trapped in Boston. Surrounding militia units from Massachusetts and neighboring colonies formed a loose ring around the city, beginning what became known as the Siege of Boston. When George Washington arrived in July 1775 to take command of the newly formed Continental Army, he inherited a force that was determined but poorly supplied and short on artillery.

Throughout the fall and winter of 1775–1776, Washington searched for a way to break the stalemate. A direct assault on Boston would have been costly and risky. Instead, he looked to geography. Dorchester Heights, commanding sweeping views of the harbor and the city, offered a strategic advantage. If American forces could fortify the Heights with cannon, they would threaten both the British fleet and the troops stationed in Boston. Control of this high ground would make the British position untenable. The British Navy had encouraged British General Howe (now commanding the British forces in Boston) to take the position due to the Navy’s vulnerability if the Americans were able to command the heights with artillery. Howe underestimated the importance of the heights and also believed the Americans lacked the proper artillery and strength to hold it.

Knox marker on Dorchester Heights

The key to Washington’s plan lay in artillery. In late 1775, Colonel Henry Knox undertook an audacious mission to transport heavy cannons captured from the British at Fort Ticonderoga in upstate New York. Over the winter, Knox and his men hauled approximately 60 tons of artillery—an operation later dubbed the “Noble Train of Artillery”—over 300 miles of frozen rivers and snow-covered terrain to Cambridge, Massachusetts.

These cannons provided Washington with the firepower necessary to implement his strategy. By early March 1776, conditions were ripe. The ground was still frozen, making it easier to move heavy equipment and but would challenge their skills at building fortifications.

On the night of March 4, American troops moved silently toward Dorchester Heights. Under the cover of darkness and diversionary bombardments from other positions, they began constructing fortifications with remarkable speed. Using pre-prepared materials—fascines (bundles of sticks), chandeliers (wooden frames filled with earth), and hay bales—they built defensive works capable of withstanding British cannon fire.

By dawn on March 5, the anniversary of the Boston Massacre, British sentries were stunned to see formidable American fortifications atop the Heights, bristling with cannon aimed at the city and harbor. General Howe reportedly exclaimed that the rebels had accomplished more in one night than his army could have done in months. The strategic implications were clear. From Dorchester Heights, American artillery could rain fire down on British ships and troop positions. The Royal Navy, essential to British supply and mobility, was now vulnerable. Remaining in Boston was a risk that Admiral Molyneux Shuldham was not willing to take and pushed Howe to respond quickly.

General Howe initially planned a counterattack to dislodge the Americans. However, a fierce storm on March 6 disrupted preparations and made an amphibious assault difficult. Also, Washington got word of the planned British assault and increased his manpower on Dorchester Heights to nearly 6,000. The memory of heavy British casualties at Bunker Hill also weighed heavily. Dorchester Heights were even stronger and more defensible than Breed’s Hill had been the previous year.

Howe evacuating Boston, courtesy New York Public Library

Facing the prospect of severe losses and an increasingly precarious situation, Howe reconsidered. Negotiations—informal and indirect—suggested that if the British evacuated Boston without destroying the town, American forces would not attack during the withdrawal.

On March 17, 1776, British troops and Loyalists began evacuating the city. More than 11,000 soldiers and nearly 1,000 Loyalists boarded ships and sailed to Halifax, Nova Scotia. The Siege of Boston was over, and the city was firmly in American hands for the remainder of the war.

The occupation of Dorchester Heights marked the first major strategic victory for the Continental Army under Washington’s leadership. It demonstrated the effectiveness of coordinated planning, logistical ingenuity, and the intelligent use of terrain. Rather than launching a costly frontal assault, Washington had leveraged geography and artillery to compel the enemy’s withdrawal.

This victory also boosted American morale at a critical time. The war was far from won—indeed, it would intensify dramatically later in 1776 with British campaigns in New York—but the successful eviction of British forces from Boston showed that the Continental Army could achieve meaningful results.

Moreover, Dorchester Heights solidified Washington’s reputation as a capable commander. His cautious but decisive approach, combined with Knox’s logistical triumph, set a pattern for future operations. The event underscored the importance of high ground in military strategy, a lesson that had already been evident at Bunker Hill but was applied with even greater effect in March 1776.

Dorchester Heights and the 1902 monument today, part of the Boston National Historical Park, courtesy of NPS

Morristown’s Individual Furlough Stories – Who Didn’t Go on Furlough?

Part VI – Artillery & Adjutant General

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes back guest historian and park ranger Eric Olsen. Ranger Olsen works for the National Park Service at Morristown National Historical Park. Click here to learn more about the park.

     What do poor health, a dead mother, a need to shop for new clothes, a pregnant wife, army business, a wife’s mental illness, family financial problems, and a desire to see family and old friends all have in common?

      They are all reasons officers gave for asking for furloughs during the winter encampment of 1779-1780.

     While the regulations and the various orders issued give us a general idea of the problems related to furloughs, we can get a different viewpoint by looking closer at the different Divisions, Brigades, and individuals who made up the army. The individual soldiers’ correspondence can also give us a more personal take on the furlough story. This paper will be far from comprehensive. It will just cover the furloughs that turn up in the surviving documentation. To make it easier to follow I have grouped the numbers and correspondence regarding furloughs by divisions and brigades.

Continue reading “Morristown’s Individual Furlough Stories – Who Didn’t Go on Furlough?”

Rev War Revelry: Henry Knox and the Noble Train

In December 1775, Henry Knox wrote to General George Washington, “I hope in 16 or 17 days to be able to present your Excellency a noble train of artillery”. However, the train of artillery would not arrive until the end of January 1776. Still an impressive feat, as Knox with his team moved 60 tons (119,000 pounds) of artillery over 300 miles from upstate New York to the environs of Boston in 70 days in the midst of winter.

This impressive feat enabled Washington to evict the British from Boston, winning the siege and giving the fledgling rebellion a victory to build momentum from.

To discuss this amazing feat and part of American military history, Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes Dr. Phillip Hamilton, a professor of history at Christopher Newport University. A historian of the American Revolutionary and Early Republican periods, he has edited and written “The Revolutionary War Lives and Letters of Lucy and Henry Knox.”

Although the program is pre-recorded, Emerging Revolutionary War hopes you still tune in on Sunday, February 22 at 7 p.m. EDT. We promise the revelry will be enlightening. If you have any questions, please drop them in the chat during the program, and we will ensure Dr. Hamilton receives them.

Morristown’s Individual Furlough Stories – Artillery Brigade & Adjutant General

Part V – Maryland Line

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes back guest historian and park ranger Eric Olsen. Ranger Olsen works for the National Park Service at Morristown National Historical Park. Click here to learn more about the park.

     What do poor health, a dead mother, a need to shop for new clothes, a pregnant wife, army business, a wife’s mental illness, family financial problems, and a desire to see family and old friends all have in common?

      They are all reasons officers gave for asking for furloughs during the winter encampment of 1779-1780.

     While the regulations and the various orders issued give us a general idea of the problems related to furloughs, we can get a different viewpoint by looking closer at the different Divisions, Brigades, and individuals who made up the army. The individual soldiers’ correspondence can also give us a more personal take on the furlough story. This paper will be far from comprehensive. It will just cover the furloughs that turn up in the surviving documentation. To make it easier to follow I have grouped the numbers and correspondence regarding furloughs by divisions and brigades.

Continue reading “Morristown’s Individual Furlough Stories – Artillery Brigade & Adjutant General”

Henry Knox and John André: An Unlikely Friendship

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes back guest historian Evan Portman

It’s often said that politics makes strange bedfellows, but that’s also true of war. On a blistering December night in 1775, Col. Henry Knox found himself sharing a cabin with the unlikeliest of people: the British officer John André.

Henry Knox

Knox was on his way to retrieve captured artillery at Fort Ticonderoga alongside his brother, William. The pair traveled up the Hudson River, facing heavy winds and harsh winter weather along the way. On December 4, a snowstorm hit just as Knox and his brother reached Fort George at the south end of Lake George, about 40 miles from Ticonderoga. Colonel Knox decided to spend the night there and sail up the lake to Fort Ticonderoga the following day.[1]

Knox received a one-room log cabin for the night, which, for lack of proper quarters, he shared with a captured British lieutenant named John André. André had surrendered during the American siege of Fort Saint-Jean in November 1775 and was being transported as a prisoner of war to Lancaster, Pennsylvania. The chance encounter sparked a brief companionship between the two men. Knox and André were the same age and shared a variety of intellectual pursuits, including a deep passion for art and literature. Both had also given up their respective trades to pursue a military career.[2]

However, Knox was careful not to betray the secrecy of his mission. The colonel, who was dressed in civilian clothes, probably did not reveal his military affiliation as a chief lieutenant of George Washington. Nonetheless, the two bedfellows passed the night by the firelight discussing their common interests. André charmed Knox, as he did most men who made his acquaintance, and the British officer’s intelligence and charisma made left a lasting impression on the artilleryman. Alexander Hamilton later recalled that “there was something singularly interesting in the character and fortunes of André” who “united a peculiar elegance of mind and manners, and the advantage of a pleasing person.”[3] The two men cordially parted ways the following day, as Knox made his way to Fort Ticonderoga and André departed for Lancaster.[4]

John André

Five years later Knox and André met again under much different circumstances. By 1780, André had risen to the rank of major and taken charge of the British spy network. It was in this role that the young officer found himself caught up in one of the great dramas of American history: the treachery of Benedict Arnold. André helped facilitate Arnold’s betrayal and eventual defection to the British army, but he was captured by American sentries in the process. Washington appointed a tribunal of 14 Continental Army officers to try André. Among them was Brig. Gen. Henry Knox.

The tribunal unanimously found André guilty of espionage and therefore ordered his death by hanging—the typical form of execution spy in the eighteenth century. Knox did not record his feelings on the matter, and André did not relate whether he recognized the portly artilleryman with whom he had once shared a cabin. Regardless, any companionship between the two men had evaporated as Knox signed André’s death warrant alongside his Continental comrades.[5]

Despite his tragic circumstances, André maintained marked civility even in the face of his execution. Knox looked on as André approached the gallows and declared, “I have said all I have to say before, and have only to request the gentlemen present to bear testimony that I met death as a brave man.”[6] With that, the cart moved out from under André’s feet, and Knox watched as his one-time companion hung.

Despite his role in André’s untimely death, Knox looked back fondly upon his one-time companion. James Thacher, who was stationed at West Point in 1780 and witnessed André’s trial, recalled that Knox “often afterward expressed the most sincere regret, that he was called by duty, to act on the tribunal that pronounced his condemnation.”[7] Though André’s life ended that October day, Knox served in the Continental army with distinction for the rest of the war. However, he never forgot his chance encounter with the charming British officer on that cold, winter night in 1775.

Fort George

[1] Mark Puls, Henry Knox: Visionary General of the American Revolution (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2008), 37.

[2] Puls, Henry Knox, 37; Noah Brooks, Henry Knox: A Soldier of the Revolution, Major-General in the Continental Army, and Washington’s Chief of Artillery (New York: Cosimo, Inc., 2007), 42.

[3] Alexander Hamilton to Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens, 11 October 1780, The Papers of Alexander Hamilton, vol. 2, 1779–1781, ed. Harold C. Syrett, (New York: Columbia University Press, 1961), 460.

[4] Puls, Henry Knox, 37-38; Winthrop Sargent, Life and Career of Major John André (Boston: Ticknor and Fields, 1861), 85.

[5] Puls, Henry Knox, 149.

[6] Puls, Henry Knox, 150.

[7] James Thacher, Military Journal During the American Revolutionary War, 1775-1783 (Boston: Richardson and Lord, 1823), 584.

Book Review: Steven P. Locke, War Along the Wabash: The Ohio Indian Confederacy’s Destruction of the U.S. Army, 1791 (Havertown, PA: Casemate Publishers, 2023).

The frontier is inextricably tied to the early development of the United States under its 1789 Constitution.  In The Treaty of Paris ending the Revolution, Britain legally ceded its territories north of the Ohio and east of the Mississippi Rivers up to the borders of Canada to the United States—the very same territory it had claimed from France at the end of the Seven Years War.  While European states might redraw borders, they did not consult the people actually living in the area.  Congress proclaimed the area the Northwest Territory and in the following years, native people, particularly the Native nations living in modern Ohio, Indiana, and Michigan fought a lengthy war with the new Unites States, inflicting one of its worst defeats on the United States Army and coming closer than any other Native American coalition to halting, or at least slowing, the spread of white society beyond the Appalachians.

            Steven P. Locke, in his new book, War Along the Wabash, chronicles the first major campaign of the United States Army in what has become known as the War of the Northwest Territory.  In 1791, frustrated by Indian attacks on frontier settlements that had not stopped after the American Revolution, Congress authorized the Washington Administration to raise an army and conduct a campaign against the Ohio Indians, the Miami, Seneca/Cayuga, Shawnee, Wyandot, Odawa, Ojibwe, Potawatomi, and Delaware.  Major General Arthur St. Clair, a veteran of the Revolutionary War, was Governor of the Northwest Territory and took personal command of the army created for the campaign.  His objective was simple enough, to launch his army from Fort Washington in modern Cincinnati to Kekionga, a cluster of Native American villages at the portage between the Maumee and Wabash Rivers in modern Fort Wayne.  Presumably, Americans ensconced in such a fort would be able to readily overawe the local tribes in their homes, force a Native American recognition of American “ownership” of the Ohio Country, and stop Indian raids along and across the Ohio River.  St. Clair received command on March 4, 1791 and was expected to march out of Fort Washington by July 10, hardly sufficient time to recruit, organize, train, and equip an army large enough for the task before him, particularly on the sparsely populated frontier.   Federal troops and supplies had to come all the way from the east coast by way of Pittsburgh and the Ohio River, while Kentucky provided militia and filled out some provisional levies. 

            Despite his intimate experience with the connection between military operations and logistical support, Secretary of War Henry Knox pressed St. Clair all summer to get his troops moving.  St. Clair, of course, could not.   The Americans had already launched mounted raids into Native American territory, which generally resulted in burned villages and despoiled crops.  According to Locke, the speed with which those raids proceeded highlights the cross-purposes under which St. Clair’s campaign would take place.  He could either move quickly with a largely mounted force over existing trails or take a more deliberate, plodding approach through the wilderness by building a road, which necessitated infantry and engineers.  St. Clair chose the latter, but the pressure from Knox and President Washington never ceased.  St. Clair responded by marching the army out of Fort Washington in September and slowly moving northward, building a road, camps, and forts as it moved a little over two miles a day, even before the army had fully assembled at Fort Washington. Indeed, in the first month, St. Clair was not usually with the army, consumed by logistical duties as he shuttled back and forth from Fort Washington or Kentucky gathering supplies and militia and then moving them forward over the newly built, yet still primitive, road. 

            By November 3, 1791, St. Clair had rejoined his army and reached the headwaters of the Wabash River with one regular infantry regiment, two levy regiments, and assorted militia, artillery, dragoons, teamsters, and camp followers.  Altogether, it was about 1,400 men.  Mistakenly believing he was closer to Kekionga than was the case and that the Indians would not attack, he did not build breastworks that night, but deployed his army in two lines with some militia thrown across a creek and various outposts scattered around his position.  He had detached his best federal regiment and sent it back down the trail to escort a supply train coming up to feed the army.  Thus, the United States Army was at its weakest point during the campaign when the Indians of the emerging Ohio Indian Confederacy struck early the next morning.  

            The Confederacy force of 1,100 warriors applied traditional tactics, quickly routing the forward militia and then moving along the flanks to the rear, essentially surrounding St. Clair and then pressing ever tighter.  Sniping from cover, the Indians seemed immune to American fire while inflicting heavy losses on the defenders.   St. Clair launched two bayonet charges to restore his lines.  As usual, the Native Americans gave way to the bayonet charges and then moved around the charging unit’s flanks as it separated from the main army, bringing each under a withering cross-fire.  In a sense, St. Clair carved up his own army and dished out pieces for the Confederacy to consume.  By the time St. Clair launched a third bayonet charge to clear his route of retreat, his army had collapsed.   He escaped with 500 men, leaving 900 dead, dying, or wounded on the battlefield, including dozens of women and children among his camp followers.  (Estimates of American losses vary widely among historians.)  The disaster was worse than General Braddock’s defeat on the Monongahela in 1755, or Custer’s in 1876.  War Along the Wabash is at its strongest when relating and analyzing the battle.  

            Locke tells the entire tale well, discusses the difficulties of raising an army from virtually nothing, includes small biographies of major “characters” as he introduces them, pays careful attention to logistics, which are often overlooked in campaign histories and were critical in the unfolding of St. Clair’s campaign, analyzes decisions and strategies, and discusses the fallout after St. Clair returned to Philadelphia to defend his decision-making.  While most of the story is from the American perspective, which is better documented, Locke makes a serious effort to address Native American perspectives and experiences as they assembled and fought the American army.  

All that said, he lapses into odd, avoidable errors from time to time.  In my Kindle edition, Locke writes on page 397 that there were approximately 400 commissioned officers in the army (nearly 1 in 3 of the total force) at the beginning of the battle, just 150 of whom remained at the end, meaning 250 commissioned officers were killed during the battle.  Yet, on page 429 he notes 69 out of 124 commissioned officers being killed or wounded during the three-hour battle.  Collectively—and there are more eyebrow-raising moments—such errors or inconsistencies distract from the book’s overall strengths, which are considerable.  

In 1793, during his campaign against the Ohio Indian Confederacy, Major General Anthony Wayne led his army up St. Clair’s trace and built a fort near the battlefield, identifiable by the large number of human remains and camp detritus, which he named Fort Recovery.  A town, still named Fort Recovery, grew up there, and the site of the battle largely lies under Wayne Street.   (Museums and parks around town commemorate both St. Clair’s defeat and Wayne’s subsequent campaign).  War Along the Wabash is an excellent starting point to understand St. Clair’s campaign and the defeat that often bears his name.  It will not be the last word, but it sets a high bar that future historians will have to work hard to surpass.  

With Lucy Knox on the Home Front

Henry Knox received much of the glory and distinction in the Knox family during the war years. Yet, his wife, Lucy Knox, had much to say to her husband regrading the future if the war effort turned out successfully for the colonies. Lucy, a daughter of loyalists who ultimately sailed for England at the start of war, remained in Boston, Massachusetts while her husband rode off to war and Washington’s army. Much of her correspondence to Henry during the war focused on events in and around Boston, news from the various battlefield fronts that had reached the city, the family business, and many other assorted topics. But, she also made sure to remind Henry that upon his return home, he would no longer be in command, nor have a generalship around the house; rather he would need to be willing to share “equal command” within the household.

Read more: With Lucy Knox on the Home Front

The following letter, written on August 23, 1777, finds Lucy at home, slowly recuperating from a days-long illness. Wanting to hear more of her daily routine while he was gone, she obliged Henry’s request to write about the ebb and flow of her life at home each day. She notes her solitary lifestyle now that both her parents are gone as well as her husband but shares with him the comfort she finds when opportunity allows to spend time with friends. Lucy, like many other wives and families left behind on the homefront fears that she may be forgotten during his extended time with the army. Then, Lucy shifts to news from the war front and requests information regarding several in the army in which Henry might know. It is also evident, as the letter draws to an end, that inflation on goods, and subsequent supply thereof, has led her to need more money from her husband in which to purchase linen.

The following letter is courtesy of The Gilder Lehrman Institute of American History.

Boston August 23rd 1777 –

My Dearest Friend –

I wrote you a line by the last post just to lett you know I was alive which indeed was all I could then say with propriety for I [struck: then] had serious thoughts that I never should see you again – so much was I reduced by only four days illness but by help of a good constitution I am surprisingly better today – I am now to answer your three last letters in one of which you ask for a history of my life. it is my love so barren of adventures and so replete with repetition that I fear it will afford you little amusement – however such as it is I give it you – In the first place, I rise about eight in the morning (a lazy hour you will say – but the day after that, is full long for a person in my situation) I presently after sitt down to my breakfast, where a page in my book, and a dish of tea, employ me alternately for about an hour – when after seeing that family matters go on right, I [struck: repeair] repair to my work, my book, or my pen, for the rest of the forenoon – at two oclock I usually take my solitary dinner where I reflect upon my past happiness when I used to sitt at the window watching for my Harry – and when I saw him coming my heart would leap for joy – when he was all my own and never happy from me when the bare thought of six months absence would have shocked him – to divert these ideas I place my little Lucy by me at table – but the more engaging her little actions are so much the more do I regret the absence of her father who would take such delight in them. – in the afternoon I commonly take my chaise, and ride into the country or go to drink tea with one of my few [struck: acquaintance] [inserted: friends]. They consist of Mrs Jarviss Mrs Sears Mrs Smith Mrs Pollard and my Aunt Waldo – I have many acquaintance beside these whom I visit but not without ceremony – when with any of [inserted: the] former I often spend the evening – but when I return home – how shall describe my feelings to find myself intirely alone – to reflect that the only friend I have in the world is at such an imense distance from me – to think that [inserted: he] may [inserted: be] sick and I cannot assist him ah poor me my heart is ready to burst, you who know what a trifle would make me unhappy, can conceive what I suffer now. –

when I seriously reflect that I have lost my father Mother Brother and Sisters – intirely lost them – I am half distracted true I chearfully resigned them for one far dearer to me than all of them – but I am totaly deprived of him – I have not seen him for almost six months – and he writes me without pointing out any method by which I may ever expect to see him again – tis hard my Harry indeed it is I love you with the tenderest the purest affection – I would undergo any hardships to be near you and you will not lett me – suppose this campaign should be like the last carried into the winter – do you intend not to see me in all that time – tell me dear what your plan is –

I wrote you that the Hero Sailed while I was at Newburg – She did but has [jnserted: been] cruiseing about from harbour to harbour since – to get met – she is now here, and will sail in a day or two for france –

I wish I had fifty guinies to spare to send by her for necessarys – but I have not – the very little gold we have must be reserved for my Love in case he should be taken – for friends in such a case are not too common. – I am more distressed from the hott weather than any other fears – God grant you may not go farther south’ard – if you should I possitively will come too – I believe Genl Howe is a paltry fellow – but happy for as that he is so – are you not much pleased with the news from the Northard we think it is a great affair and a confirmation of StClairs villainy baseness – I hope he will not go unpunished – we hear also that Genl Gates is to go back to his command. – if so Master Schuyler, cannot be guiltless – it is very strange, you never mentioned that affair in any of your letters –

Catharine Littlefield Greene – Courtesy Telfair Museums

What has become of Mrs Greene, do you all live together – or how do you manage – is Billy to remain with you payless or is he to have a com[inserted: m]ission – if the former I think he had much better remained where he was – if he understood business he might without a capital have made a fortune – people here – without advanceing a shilling frequently clear hundreds in a day – such chaps as Eben Oliver – are all men of fortune – while persons – who have ever lived in affluence – are in danger of want – oh that you had less of the military man about you – you might then after the war have lived at ease all the days of your life – but now I don’t know what you will do – your being long acustomed to command – will make you too haughty for mercantile matters – tho I hope you will not consider yourself as commander in chief of your own house – but be convinced tho not in the affair of Mr Coudre that there is such a thing as equal command – I send this by CaptRandal who says he expects to remain with you – pray how many of these lads have have you – I am sure they must be very expensive – I am in want of some square dollars – which I expect from you to by me a peace of linen an article I can do no longer without haveing had no recruit of that kind for almost five years – girls in general when they marry are well stocked with those things but poor I had no such advantage –

little Lucy who is without exception the sweetest child in the world – sends you a kiss but where [inserted: shall] I take it from say you – from the paper I hope – but dare I say I sometimes fear [struck: what] [inserted: that] a long absence the force of bad example may lead you to forget me at sometimes – to know that it ever gave you pleasure to be in company with the finest woman in the world, would be worse that death to me – but it is not so, my Harry is too just too delicate too sincere – and too fond of his Lucy to admit the most remote thought of that distracting kind –away with it – don’t be angry with me my Love – I am not jealous of you affection – I love you with a love as true and sacred as ever entered the human heart – but from a diffidence of my own merit I sometimes fear you will Love me less – after being so long from me – if you should may my life end before I know it – that I may die thinking you wholly mine –

Adieu my love
LK

Christmas Night, 1776: How Did They Cross? The Horses:

Part II.

Part 1 of this article showed that a total of 23 ferry trips were required to move all of Knox’s artillery men, guns, horses, and carts across the Delaware River. In addition, there were other horses needed for the march to Trenton. Many of the likely 35 horses associated with senior officers and aids could fit in with the above 23 trips at a rate of a couple per trip, especially the ferry with only one cart. 

There were six ferries operating to move the Continental Army across the river at McKonkey’s ferry site. Each of the six ferries could likely carry a maximum weight of roughly 8,750 pounds. That weight estimate comes from the intelligence report from Capt. Losbiniere on 22 December 1776 concerning the “7 flat-bottom boats which may carry about 50 men each and two ferry Boats, which may carry the like number” that were with Col. Cadwalader at Bristol ferry.[i]  There is no reason to believe those ferries were different from those at used at McKonkey’s. If it is assumed a man weighed 150 pounds plus 25 pounds of musket and gear, then the weight for 50 men comes to 8,750 pounds. With those capabilities the Philadelphia Light Horse needed 3 ferries for their unit (8 horses and riders per ferry).

Possibly one more ferry trip for any leftover senior officers and aids horses was necessary.  That is 27 trips total needed. With six ferries working that is four trips for all with three additional trips required. Those five round trips by the ferries were estimated by Washington in his plan to require six hours; however, it actually took a nine-hour period (6 pm to 3 am). The additional hours required for the crossing was likely explained by the floating ice and the increased river current driving the ferries out of position.

The question was raised about how difficult it would have been to transport the horses across the river. The somewhat surprising answer may be that it was not as difficult as many assume. No doubt a few horses were a problem; however, the majority of the horses probably presented few problems. How we surmise this is as follows:

Firstly, we can safely speculate that at least some of the horses had participated in earlier ferry crossings during the army’s previous movements and retreats. Those horses would remember that nothing was amiss in the crossing.  Secondly, many of the farm horses transferred to pull guns had previous experience pulling carts and wagons across ferries to take produce to market. Thirdly, each team had a driver who knew the horses and he could strategically place the lead horse with a horse who had experience. As for the cavalry, each horse rider likely slowly leads his horse onto the ferry. Horses who see a previous horse move onto a ferry without incident generally lose their fear.

The following picture of a contemporary ferry crossing (1779) shows a typical crossing.[ii] This period ferry appears to measure about 48 feet long (without the two four-foot ramps) by eight feet wide. If one replaces the carriage in the painting with a field gun and limber then the person holding the reins would be the driver. Note the horses are in a pair; whereas, on a gun team there would be a thill horse in front of the limber and additional horse(s) in front of the thill horse.


Many of the campaigns and battles of the Revolutionary War are better understood if a study of horses was included in the analysis. Often, it was all about horses, or the lack thereof. Both General Burgoyne’s march south in the Saratoga campaign and General de Kalb’s march toward South Carolina show that the lack of horses was very important. As for the crossing of the Delaware, General Washington showed his skill in planning. More important, Washington was lucky. It was not the horses that drove the outcome but rather the bad weather and severe river conditions. These bad conditions set in place the delay that assisted the surprise attack.


[i] William S. Stryker, The Battles of Trenton and Princeton (The Riverside Press, Cambridge, 1898), 338

[ii] Camden County Historical Society, Drawing of the ferry done in 1779 in Lower Delaware River. Image retrieved https://www.living-in-the-past.com/ferry.html

The Other Great Artilleryman

Mention the words “artillery” and “American Revolution” and what name instantly pops into your mind? Henry Knox.

Rightfully so.

Yet, like George Washington, Knox needed competent officers under him to successfully organize, train, lead, and develop the artillery arm of the Continental Army.

Enter John Lamb.

John Lamb
John Lamb

Born on the first day of 1735 in New York City, he was destined to rebel. The reason he was even born in New York City was due to the fact that his father, a convicted burglar had been sentenced for deportation to the colonies in the 1720s.

His early upbringing saw him become a prosperous wine merchant and he quickly ingratiated himself into the burgeoning patriot movement by becoming an integral part of the Sons of Liberty in New York City.  Continue reading “The Other Great Artilleryman”

George Washington’s Greatest Speech?

On the morning of March 15, 1783, George Washington strode into the “New Building” or “Temple” as the structure was referred as, to address the assembled officers of the Continental Army. He asked General Horatio Gates if he could have the floor to say a few words and when he unfolded his pieces of paper on the podium, the words lost their importance.

Why? Continue reading “George Washington’s Greatest Speech?”