Washington's Immortals

by Patrick K. O'Donnell

  For months during the summer of 1777, Washington had been trying to divine William Howe’s next move. The British general tried various feints and deceptions to draw the American army into battle. Although Washington dispersed smaller forces to guard against various possibilities, he refused to be drawn into an ill-conceived battle that was not on his terms. “We have such contradictory accounts from different quarters that I find it impossible to form any satisfactory judgment of the real motions and intentions of the enemy,” he noted.

  However, Washington was fairly certain that Howe planned to attack Philadelphia, eventually. As a countermeasure, the American general lined up defenses along the Delaware, the most convenient means of approach to the city. His guess seemed confirmed when the British troops loaded up on 228 ships in New York. Howe once again used naval superiority to his advantage to confuse and deceive Washington. Rather than turn into the Delaware as expected, he kept going. The American commander in chief was flummoxed. “I confess the conduct of the enemy is distressing beyond measure and past our comprehension,” he admitted. Howe kept sailing for several more weeks, entering Chesapeake Bay and making his way back north before landing in an area known as Head of Elk, about fifty miles southwest of Philadelphia. He “must mean to reach Philadelphia by that route, though to be sure it is a very strange one,” decided Washington.

  With Howe’s unconventional plan revealed, Washington prepared to meet the enemy. After the parade through Philadelphia, the Marylanders and the rest of the army marched to Chadd’s Ford, which crossed Brandywine Creek. Filled with steep hills and ravines, Chadd’s Ford offered a natural defensive position. The Americans held the high ground and most, but not all, of the important fords. They structured the defenses to force the British to battle their way across the Brandywine, funneling the Redcoats through the fords, which would act as kill zones. Preparing his troops for battle, Washington told them that if they defeated the Crown at Brandywine, “they are utterly undone—the war is at an end. Now then is the time for our most strenuous exertions.” To fortify them for the coming fight Washington ordered the casks opened and gave each of the men an extra gill, about five fluid ounces, of rum. Liquor was an important component of eighteenth-century military life. The liquid courage could lift sagging morale. Washington also added another element of effective persuasion to minimize cowardice: any man fleeing the battlefield would be shot by American riflemen.

  Washington spread his forces along a five-mile stretch of the creek to guard eight fords. The bulk of the Maryland forces fought under Brigadier General John Sullivan on the right side of the battle line at Brinton’s Ford. The Delaware Regiment, detached from Smallwood’s Battalion, guarded Jones’s Ford. The men quickly prepared for a major battle, felling trees and hastily throwing up fortifications. Maryland officer William Beatty recalled, “As the Approach of the Enemy gave reason to Apprehend an Attack, the whole of the troops were ordered to throw up Breast Works in front of their respective camps.” But Washington had made a crucial mistake. He left two fords to the north unguarded, either because he had inadequate intelligence about the area or because he didn’t believe the enemy would travel the extra ten miles upriver to reach the crossings. On September 10 Sullivan even asked about fords farther upstream, but Washington’s aides assured him these wouldn’t be a problem. They were wrong.

  Howe’s spies informed him the northerly fords remained unguarded, and he decided on a near repeat of his strategy at the Battle of Brooklyn. In the early morning hours of September 11, 1777, sixty-one-year-old Prussian Lieutenant General Wilhelm Reichsfreiherr (Baron) zu Inn und Knyphausen led a column of five thousand to six thousand men directly up the main road to meet the bulk of Washington’s army and the Marylanders at Chadd’s Ford and the other nearby crossings. Knyphausen, like General James Grant at Brooklyn, led the unit meant to pin Washington down and to distract him from the flanking force. That force, led by Howe and Charles, Earl Cornwallis, included a slightly larger group of sixty-five hundred Hessians and Redcoats. They marched in a long looping route to the west before cutting back across to Jeffries Ford and attacking the rebels’ flank from the north.

  Marsch, schräg nach rechts! (Incline to the right!)

  Marsch, schräg nach links! (Incline to the left!)

  Halt!

  Angriff! (Charge!)

  A Hessian officer barked orders in guttural German.

  “The balls [were] plowing up the ground. The Trees crackling over one’s head. The branches riven by the artillery. The leaves falling as in autumn by the grapeshot,” recalled one Hessian who was near the Brandy­wine at Chadd’s Ford as they were trying to pin down the Americans while General Howe and Cornwallis conducted their flanking maneuver.

  As the battle unfolded and Knyphausen’s force surged forward, Washington decided on an audacious strategy. He would go on the offensive and attack the enemy’s left and right flanks as the Prussian was striking the American center. Washington ordered Sullivan and the Marylanders, who were on the extreme left, to cross the Brandywine and attack the Hessians’ right flank. Samuel Smith of the 4th Maryland recalled, “Colonel [Nathaniel] Ramsay of the Maryland Line [Mordecai Gist’s 3rd Regiment], crossed the river, and skirmished with and drove the Yagars” for a time. One soldier near the fight observed that the water of the creek was “much stained with blood.”

  Washington led from the thick of the action with soldiers falling around him. Even as enemy fire beheaded an artilleryman next to him, the general kept cool. According to legend, British Major Patrick Ferguson had Washington in his sights at one point, but didn’t fire because his chivalrous nature prevented him from killing a man whose back was turned. Minutes after the encounter, an American rifleman wounded the honorable British officer.

  Veiled in thick fog off to the west, Cornwallis’s flanking force was closing in on its goal. A few sharp-eyed scouts reported the movement, and Washington had Sullivan send some units to investigate. However, the reports he received back were of a very contradictory nature, leaving the general unaware of the approaching menace. The troops led by Howe and Cornwallis had reached Jeffries Ford. Shortly after noon, they plunged into the waist-high water, marveling that the way had been left wide open though it could have been held with a hundred men. Soon they passed through the woods near the creek and swarmed into the nearby farmland. A young Quaker who lived in the area saw their arrival and wrote, “In a few minutes, the fields were literally covered with them. . . . Their arms and bayonets being raised shone as bright as silver, there being a clear sky and the day exceedingly warm.” He noted Cornwallis’s presence and panache: “He was on horseback, appeared tall and sat very erect. His rich scarlet clothing loaded with gold lace, epaulets, &c., occasioned him to make a brilliant and martial appearance.” On the other hand, the Quaker wasn’t impressed by Howe’s appearance. “The general was a large, portly man, of coarse features. He appeared to have lost his teeth, as his mouth had fallen in.”

  By 1:15 p.m. Washington was realizing his fatal mistake and began pulling men away from the creek to meet the new British threat on his northern flank. At 2:30 Washington ordered Sullivan to stop his attack on Knyphausen and instead move north to face off against Cornwallis and Howe. The Marylanders, unfamiliar with the area, stumbled and ran through ravines, marshland, thickets, and fields trying to meet up with their countrymen and find the enemy. Sullivan recalled, “I neither knew where the enemy were, nor what route the other two divisions were to take, and of course could not determine where I should make a junction with them.”

  Eventually, Sullivan made it to the battlefield, but confusion again reigned as he attempted to position his troops. He first placed the Marylanders and others under his charge in front of a large wooded hill but soon noticed other American forces lined up behind him. Concerned, he “rode up to Consult the other General officers.” Brigadier General Philippe-Hubert Preudhomme de Borre was temporarily in command of the Ma
rylanders. With Smallwood and Gist both detached from the Maryland Line and organizing the militia, the Marylanders were left without two key leaders they had followed in the past. From the motions of the British force in front of them, the American officers could tell that Howe and Cornwallis planned a flanking action. To counter the threat, they needed to reposition Sullivan’s men closer to the unit commanded by Lord Stirling, and they sent orders to that effect to de Borre. Strangely, de Borre promptly led the men in virtual circles.

  Consequently, Sullivan and the Marylanders were still racing to get into position when the British attacked shortly after 4:00 p.m. Stone explained, “By the time we reached the ground they had to cannonade the ground allotted to us, which was very bad, and the enemy within musket shot of it before we were ordered to form the line of battle.”

  Immediately before the battle began, the Marquis de Lafayette came riding out of the woods to join the Maryland Line. Bestowed with the tongue-twisting name Marie-Joseph-Paul-Yves-Roch-Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette, the marquis was a wealthy French aristocrat who had dreamed since childhood of becoming a famous military commander. He volunteered to fight in America as a nineteen-year-old and had turned twenty just days before the battle. Washington had immediately taken a liking to the young man, making him an important liaison with France.

  After their humiliating defeat in the Seven Years’ War, the French burned for vengeance. Encouraging England’s colonies to revolt against their mother country seemed like a good payback for the humiliating terms of the 1763 Treaty of Paris. Even prior to the Revolution, the French sent secret emissaries to survey the American landscape and sound out interest in independence. America also sent representatives to France to make the case for French involvement. They played up the mutual interest of both countries: here was an opportunity to settle old scores and redress the balance of power that had shifted in Britian’s favor. American ambassadors, led by Benjamin Franklin, pushed for loans and the ability to purchase gunpowder and other supplies on credit.

  While the French recognized that the Revolution was in their interest, they weren’t convinced it was time for a formal treaty. They had concerns about the cost of the war and whether the Americans could win. In addition, King Louis XVI had to be careful about supporting the idea of rebellion against royal authority. Meanwhile, foreign fighters from France started offering their services to America. It actually became quite fashionable in Paris to seek a commission in the American army and the chance to win battlefield laurels. For most of the foreign fighters, the rose-colored view of war changed dramatically when they started fighting alongside the threadbare American army. But some French officers, like Lafayette, willingly risked life and fortune for the cause.

  Shortly after Lafayette arrived at the Marylanders’ position, “Lord Cornwallis’s men suddenly emerged from the woods in very good order,” noted Lafayette. They brought two twelve-pounders with them, and a bloody fight ensued. Lafayette was shot in the leg but still courageously attempted to rally the men. Also grazed by a bullet was John Boudy, who was fighting alongside Jack Steward. Boudy recalled that he “received a wound from a musket ball in his knee, which disqualified him from duty in the line till the Winter following.”

  One of the Patriot soldiers added, “The firing, while the action lasted, was the warmest, I believe, that has been in America since the war began.” Henry Wells of the Delaware Regiment recalled, “During the fight, the wind favored the enemy and drove the Smoke directly in our faces which was one great cause of our discomfiture.”

  Less than an hour after it began, the battle turned into a rout as the Americans, led by de Borre, fled the battlefield. Lafayette explained, “The American fire was murderous, but both their right and left wings collapsed.” Confusion grew, and some of the Marylanders accidentally began to fire upon their own men. It was the last time de Borre commanded American troops.

  With men running for their lives, one Marylander proved unflappable. The most unlikely man trying to reestablish the American line that day went into action: Dr. Richard Pindell, their militant surgeon. It was the doctor’s first pitched battle. “I rallied a considerable number of the retreating troops,” he said, “formed them in Order, after they were driven from the field and keep command of them until an [officer] fell in and took command.” He later explained, “I have done some military achievements that would have done Honour to those whose duty it was meet in Battle of the Bristled Bayonetts.”

  Back at Chadd’s Ford, where Knyphausen’s men briefly halted, bizarrely, “a total silence ensued.” The general had ordered his men to stand down to await the outcome of the fight to the north. As time ticked away, “We began to be uneasy about General Howe for a great force of the rebels marched from the hills and woods before us toward him,” wrote one of the British artillerymen. Those fears did not last long; within hours they began to see Sullivan’s men “running in multitudes out of the woods. We now began again with all our artillery to play on the flying scoundrels; the fire was returned by them from all their batteries.”

  The fleeing Marylanders scrambled across the rocky terrain pursued by the British and the Hessians. The Redcoats brought their cannon with them and continued firing at the Americans. “We renew our fire from the artillery to scour the woods,” reported one of the British soldiers. “They fly from all quarters.” Colonel John Hoskins Stone of the 1st Maryland, a former lawyer and later a politician, said that he expected higher losses than actually occurred. “Never was a more constant and heavy fire while it lasted, and I was much amazed when I knew the numbers that were killed and wounded.”

  For many of the Maryland men, the rout at the Brandywine was seared in their memories. For African American Private Thomas Carney, a cordial twenty-three-year-old freeman likely from Queen Annes County, this was his first taste of battle. He was “well over six feet tall and noted for his great strength.” This was also the first battle for Private James Gooding, who had recently rejoined the army after spending a good deal of time recovering from his smallpox inoculation. Another newcomer, Michael Ellis, reached the battle by a much more unusual path. During the early part of the war, he had been a sailor on a merchant ship captured by the British. He remained a prisoner on a frigate, but “when said frigate entered the Delaware River, [Ellis] made his escape and joined the Maryland Continental troops then at Brandy­wine.” Marylander Jacob Allen also remembered the fight because he was “wounded in the hand and in the face,” but recovered. Henry Wells of the Delaware Regiment was also injured. He later recalled, “We were led from the field into a Swamp, where the efforts of the horse were rendered ineffectual, from the nature of the ground. In the action I received a flesh wound in the right haunch, the scar occasioned by which is plainly visible at this day.”

  Eventually, many Maryland officers and NCOs organized their men to make a stand and allow the remainder of the army to escape. Stone recalled, “We retreated about a quarter of a mile and rallied all the men we could, when we were reinforced by Greene’s and Nash’s corps, who had not till that time got up. Greene had his men posted on a good piece of ground, which they maintained for some time, and I dare say did great execution.” Nearby, as the 4th Maryland, led by Smith, passed through a nearby cornfield, they “discovered a flanking party of the enemy.” They exchanged fire, and one of the Marylanders “was shot in the heel.” The men panicked again. “Some of the men left [Smith]; and [I] retired, almost alone to the top of a high hill, on which [I] halted, and collected nearly one thousand men; formed them into Companies; and remained until near sunset.”

  The late attempts to reengage in battle couldn’t change the fact that the fight had already been lost. Smith decided to abandon his hilltop post and make his way to Chester, Pennsylvania, where he hoped to meet up with the rest of the army. Unfortunately, he didn’t know the way. He found a local farmer, one of the many Quakers in the area, and asked him to guide the Americans to the right road. As a de
vout pacifist, the man initially refused. Smith pointed a pistol at the farmer and “assured him he was a dead man if he did not get his horse instantly and show the way to Chester.”

  “What a dreadful man thou art!” exclaimed the Quaker, who then saddled his horse and got ready to direct Smith to the road.

  Before leaving, Smith offered a warning: “Now, I have not entire confidence in your fidelity, but I tell you explicitly, that if you do not conduct me clear of the enemy, the moment I discover your treachery, I will blow your brains out.”

  “Why, thou are the most desperate man I ever did see!” exclaimed the man, now truly frightened. He offered the Maryland officer his word and led him to the correct road. At that point, Smith thanked him for his help.

  “I want no thanks, thee forced me!” replied the Quaker.

  Chapter 18

  Wayne’s Affair

  A young girl’s desperate shriek pierced the air. There in the house was her father’s blue and buff uniform—the same uniform he had worn when leaving for war—but now it was soaked in blood.

  “Oh my Daddy’s killed, my dear Daddy’s killed!” she wailed, tears streaming from her eyes.

  The plaintive sound drew the attention of the house’s other occupant. To his daughter’s great relief, Lieutenant Colonel Persifor Frazer of the 5th Pennsylvania came rushing into the room. He wasn’t dead, just one of the hundreds wounded at the Brandywine. With his home nearby, Frazer had taken the opportunity to stop in, pick up a few things, and see his family. However, the visit was short, and Frazer soon rejoined the rest of the Continental soldiers seeking to escape from General William Howe.