by Logan Beirne
The Framers revisited the issue of commander-in-chief authority after the war. When drafting the Constitution, they drew upon their vivid memories of the Revolution, recalling, “Such was the situation of our affairs then, that the power of dictator was given to the commander-in-chief, to save us from destruction. This shows the situation of the country to have been such as to make it ready to embrace an actual dictator.”30 And that dictator had saved the United States from destruction. The founding generation had learned the hard way that the American commander in chief needed to be a powerful one if he was to defend his nation, and that “war powers needed to be fixed to guarantee effective common defense.”31
So when they designated the president as “Commander in Chief of the Army and the Navy of the United States” in 1787, it was clear to the American people what this meant: the role that General Washington had forged amidst battle. The wartime American commander was to be a new kind of deferential republican dictator—he had broad authority to lead the military in defending the nation, while Congress and the states held authority over the American people.
“The task of facing and fighting the enemy was enough for the ablest of men,” observed one early biographer, “but Washington was obliged also to combat and overcome the inertness and dullness born of ignorance, and to teach Congress how to govern a nation at war.”32 He defined the role of the American commander in chief not only for Congress but also for posterity.
Back on Wall Street in New York City, Washington is honored for his bravery in forging the nation. The grand statue in front of Federal Hall reminds New Yorkers and throngs of passing tourists that the nation’s Constitution and prosperity can be attributed in great part to his heroism as the first American commander in chief. Ironically, had he been granted his dictatorial powers initially, the great man depicted by the statue may have used them to torch all of Manhattan.
IV
TRIBUNALS & TRIBULATIONS
“Resolved, That General Washington shall be, and he is hereby
vested with full, ample, and
complete powers to . . . arrest and confine persons . . .
who are disaffected to the American cause.”
—RESOLUTION OF THE CONTINENTAL CONGRESS,
DECEMBER 27, 1776
Many have heard of Washington’s bout with America’s most famous traitor, Benedict Arnold. Less known, however, are the trials and tribulations of Arnold’s British co-conspirator, Major John André. The tragic tale unfolded on a scenic bend of a slow-moving river in upstate New York. There, amidst the forest-covered hills that plunge into the Hudson, today sits a famous American landmark: the United States Military Academy at West Point.
The preeminent source of commissioning officers for the army of the world’s lone superpower, this institution feeds a thousand new cadets each year into leadership posts in the United States Army. Rigorously trained in academics, military leadership, combat, and physical fitness, these young men and women are well prepared to defend their country from any threat. But before these patriotic souls commence their service to their country, they enjoy four years on the beautiful, hallowed grounds of the historic Military Academy. Nestled within the serenity of the rolling hills that dominate the region, the campus brims with a youthful vitality. Here, on tree-lined paths that cross the manicured lawns, the nation’s future military elite proceed to their intense academic and physical exercises. Some, dressed in crisp uniforms, chat casually as they stroll while others in jogging suits run together in groups. Whether they are heading to weapons training or applied quantum physics, they go proudly. The objective of the Military Academy is to foster excellence. Boasting two American presidents, seventy-four Medal of Honor recipients, seventy Rhodes Scholars, and eighteen astronauts as alumni, the institution has clearly succeeded.1
Unsurprisingly, this time-honored symbol of American military prowess pays homage to George Washington as the country’s father and first commander in chief. In fact, Washington Hall is one of the more popular places on the campus. Just as the general breathed life into his nation, Washington Hall energizes the cadets: it houses their mess hall. Before the entrance stands the striking, larger-than-life effigy of the general. While the bronze is weathered blue-green with age, the statue still clearly depicts a strong military leader on horseback. With his hat in his hand and a sword by his side, the gallant hero towers over all who walk by. His right hand stretches outward as if reaching towards the future that he would shape so dramatically. With this tribute to General Washington at its heart, the handsome Collegiate Gothic campus exudes a stately permanence.
West Point today is the epitome of safety and security. It was not always this way. Once called “Fort Arnold,” this post was nearly betrayed to the British—a betrayal that would have doomed the American cause. Washington retaliated against the treachery with deadly military justice, the ramifications of which can still be felt today.
The chapters in this part scrutinize the United States’ Revolutionary War precedents for military tribunals. In his fierce defense of the nation, Washington forged the American way of meting out justice.
21
Gentleman Johnny vs. Granny Gates
When the military post was hastily constructed at West Point, its success was so vital to the revolutionary cause that it became known as “the key to the American Continent.”1 After the British invaded New York City, Washington feared they were going to seize the opportunity to sever New England from her sister states. The rebellious New England states not only constituted the heart of the young nation’s patriotic fervor, but also were a vital source of rations, supplies, weapons, and soldiers for Washington’s army. Barely holding the battered Continental Army together, Washington desperately needed all of these. It was imperative that he retain access to the region. General Howe had other designs.
After conquering New York City, Howe placed the “utmost importance” on securing “free communication between Canada and New York, by means of the Lake Champlain and Hudson’s River, . . . in order to facilitate the operations of the British arms in the mediate plan of subjugating the Colonies.”2 If the British were to gain control over the Hudson, it would enable them to utilize their naval assets to funnel massive quantities of troops and weapons through Montreal and down into New York City, leaving Washington with little means to attack. In the process, Howe would cut the heart out of the rebellion by isolating New England.
Consequently, Americans were equally interested in sparsely populated upstate New York “from every sound principle of policy,” in order to counteract the British actions and “to preserve the communication between eastern and southern states, for the conveyance of supplies of provisions, and for the marching and counter-marching of troops . . . .”3
Still without a navy to match Britain’s, the Americans had little choice but to rely on a land-based defense. Congress determined that “a fort should be erected . . . to check any naval force”4 and resolved that “a post be . . . taken in the Highlands on each side of Hudson’s River and batteries erected in such a manner as will most effectually prevent any vessels passing that may be sent to harass the inhabitants on the borders of said river . . . .”5
Prior to deciding on the West Point location, the patriots first attempted to build a fort downriver. About fifty miles outside of New York City, they threw together a somewhat crude defense: They created a chain of floating logs across the river to obstruct ships attempting to pass, and guarded their barrier with six cannons housed in an ill-conceived fort. Built on a low-lying position, Fort Montgomery was vulnerable to Britain’s tall gunships and lacked adequate munitions to repel an intense assault.
Determined to destroy this and all obstacles to British domination of the region, Sir Henry Clinton, a British Army lieutenant general serving under Howe, led a raiding party from his New York City stronghold up the Hudson riverbank. The son of the former colonial governor of New York, Clinton knew these parts and was hell-bent on returning th
em to British rule. Towards this end, his immediate objective was to crush the rebel installations and clear the way for British support from Canada.
Of noble blood, Clinton had quickly risen through the ranks of the British Army by purchasing higher commissions and capitalizing on familial connections. He possessed a long nose, softly cleft chin, and gentle eyes. His prominent arching eyebrows defined the lower boundary of a high forehead that added to his aristocratic air. Clinton was described by his staff as “[v]ain, open to flattery; and from a great aversion to all business not military, too often misled by aides and favourites.” He was particularly noted for being hot-tempered, jealous, and wary of perceived slights.6 A self-described “shy bitch,” he tended to be excessively cautious and inordinately touchy.7 Upon obtaining command of New York City from Howe after the British commander and Mrs. Loring relocated to Philadelphia, this insecure underling was eager to prove his military prowess to his scornful British superiors. He resented being Howe’s subordinate and embraced the chance to display his superiority over his master.
Clinton’s raiding party took a treacherously steep, winding path over a mountain in order to catch the Americans at Fort Montgomery by surprise on October 6, 1777. As night closed in, they pounced on the undermanned fort, while the cannon of their fearsome naval support lit up the darkening sky. “[T]he Gallies with their Oars approaching, firing, and even striking the Fort; the Men of War that Moment appearing, crouding all Sail to support [Clinton’s troops]; the extreme Ardor of the Troops” all added up to a lethal blow that slaughtered the American forces.8 The defending patriots, outnumbered three to one, fought valiantly until they were driven out at the points of enemy bayonets. By the time darkness had fallen, more than half of the patriot fighters were killed, wounded, or captured.
Once the Americans were crushed, the British force advanced up the Hudson, “carrying fire and devastation before them.” The town of Kingston, seat of the rebel government, “beautifully situated near the West bank of the Hudson river,” was “laid to ashes.”9 Clinton’s men destroyed approximately four hundred structures—homes, barns, and mills.10 This British victory proved to be a pyrrhic one, however. The American forces were trounced, but Clinton’s campaign was ineffective in helping the British hold the Hudson Valley. His destructive little campaign was intended to divert American ire from a larger British force that was besieged to the north; but the patriots refused to take the bait. If anything, Clinton’s brutality hastened the British defeat in the region: the local populace was enraged.
Britain’s dominion over the Hudson Valley was cut short, ironically, by the military genius of none other than the duplicitous Benedict Arnold. Upriver from Clinton’s troops, the American Northern Army, led by Horatio Gates and his brilliant officer, Arnold, confronted a British force that was marching south from Canada.
This force of 7,000 well-trained soldiers was a fearsome one, led by “Gentleman Johnny” Burgoyne. A dashing man with a strong jaw and a prominent widow’s peak, Burgoyne was known for his stylish clothes and lavish spending. He was rumored to be a heavy gambler, and he certainly gambled with his force: he underestimated the journey to New York City. With cooks, smiths, officers’ wives, servants, and a herd of cattle in tow, Burgoyne’s army resembled a “lumbering baggage train” more than a nimble fighting force.11 And that train became dangerously bogged down in the dense forests above Albany, New York.12
As he neared his objective of connecting with the British forces in New York City—and thereby securing the entire Hudson—Burgoyne’s unwieldy regiment faced difficulties in transporting equipment and artillery through upstate’s primitive dirt pathways. With its supply lines stretched in these backwoods, the British force was also short on food. To make matters even worse, their mere presence roused the local patriot militiamen in substantial numbers. The Americans went ballistic over reports that Britain’s Native American allies had shot, scalped, and stripped an American teenage girl. 13
Despite the growing peril, the brash Burgoyne was eager to obtain a quick victory about which he might boast. “The Messengers of Justice and of Wrath await them in the Field,” he exclaimed, “and Devastation, Famine, and every concomitant Horror that a reluctant but indispensible Prosecution of Military Duty must occasion, will bar the way to their return.”14 Overconfident as ever, Burgoyne “spent half the nights in singing and drinking, and amusing himself with the wife of a commissary, who was his mistress, and who, as well as he, loves champaign.”15 But the strength of his bravado exceeded that of his military position. Gentleman Johnny was perilously isolated from supplies and reinforcements—Howe was distracted fighting Washington in Pennsylvania and Clinton was reluctant to divert troops from defending New York City. The floundering force was on its own.
The Americans took full advantage and pounced. The patriot force swelling to 14,000 as incensed farmers flocked to the cause, the Americans clawed at Burgoyne’s army. But when the fog lifted one late summer morning in 1777, the tricky Burgoyne struck back. His goal was to outsmart Washington’s third-in-command, “Granny Gates.”
Horatio Gates was an ambitious forty-nine-year-old English immigrant. He was a well-mannered, courteous man who exhibited no great bravery.16 In fact, his subordinates called him “Granny Gates” due to his avoidance of direct attacks as well as his relatively advanced age and sagging spectacles. His large, hooked nose and drooping, sleepy eyes made for a homely man who lacked looks as well as any particular military aptitude. His father a minor government official and his mother a housekeeper, Gates was determined to surpass the modest circumstances into which he was born. And he saw the military as a means of doing so.
Gates entered the British Army as a teenager and garnered quite respectable, albeit not particularly illustrious, military experience over the next two and a half decades. He fought alongside Washington in the Seven Years’ War, so his old friend as commander in chief urged Congress to grant Gates a high position in the new American army. Gates was not content with his commission, however. He wanted more, and he possessed the means to get it. He had many prattling friends in Congress as well as a knack for political intrigue. 17
Gates first set his sights on the job of his immediate superior, General Philip Schuyler. Washington’s third-in-command when the war began in 1775, Schuyler was a generous and courteous gentleman who treated Gates with the utmost respect. With a kind face, narrow-set dark eyes, and a bulbous nose, he resembled the “puppy-dog” that he was in temperament. Schuyler once stumbled upon a wounded enemy soldier who had just attacked his party. Moved by the soldier’s cries, he carried him to a doctor, thereby saving his life.18 But Gates and his friends were more than willing to kick this puppy.
Like a high school election campaign, the congressional cliques’ rumor mills began to churn. The New England faction was particularly vocal. Typical of the regional clashes between the states, New Englanders generally disdained New Yorkers as the two regions competed for power and influence. As a legislator, Schuyler had defended New York’s claims to Vermont lands against those of the bombastic Ethan Allen and his New England brethren. “For this crime the men of New England were never able to forgive him, and he was pursued with vindictive hatred until his career as general was ruined.”19 Gates’s New England allies in Congress spread rumors of Schuyler’s military mismanagement and even indirectly accused him of treason. 20 While Gates did not possess the brashness to lead this slander coup, “his nature was thoroughly weak and petty, and he never shrank from falsehood when it seemed to suit his purpose.”21
The rumors worked. The majority in Congress slowly turned against Schuyler. Just as the New Englanders in Congress had planned, Gates took Schuyler’s spot as Washington’s third-in-command. Now he finally had a chance for greatness as he confronted Burgoyne in the woods of upstate New York.
Referring to Gates as the “old midwife,” Burgoyne struck back at the American forces.22 The inert Gates was nearly outflanked, but Arnold foresaw their oppo
nent’s strategy and argued vehemently for dispatching troops to counter the maneuver. Gates, a man often “influenced by spite,” disliked his brash underling’s know-it-all demeanor.23 He did not like being second-guessed or having his newly won authority questioned. But he held his rage in check and finally came to agree with Arnold.
For his part, Arnold was “maddened” by Gates’s incompetency and “seemed inspired with the fury of a demon.” In a bold frontal attack that sent the British troops recoiling, he “proved his courage and ability.”24 In the fierce battle, the ill-trained, ragtag American troops swarmed against the British regiment. Both sides suffered disastrous casualties in the intense fighting, but by the time the Americans retreated, they had inflicted far more casualties than they sustained. One American officer wrote, “I trust we have convinced the British butchers that the ‘cowardly’ Yankees can, and when there is a call for it, will fight.”25
Mere weeks later, a second battle erupted between Gentleman Johnny and Granny Gates. The American forces now outnumbered the British 11,000 to 5,000.26 Still confident he could win, Burgoyne struck the Americans on the afternoon of October 7, 1777. After yet another quarrel over tactics, Gates angrily relieved Arnold of his field command and told him, “I have nothing for you to do; you have no business here.”27 Not one to be dismissed, Arnold nevertheless charged into the battle. He bravely led his men, quite literally risking life and limb—he was shot in the leg during the firefight and nearly crushed by his horse.28 When the gunpowder and cannon smoke dissipated, the Americans emerged triumphant. After a horrific day of fighting, dusk settled upon the battered men.
The British sat awake that early autumn night, listening to the groans of their comrades dying in the battlefield that separated the two opposing camps. However well trained they were, Burgoyne’s ranks were thinning while the American side was continually refueled with fresh militiamen from around the countryside. His supplies of food and munitions dwindling along with his hopes, Burgoyne frantically attempted to formulate a plan of escape.