When Washington issued orders for a general advance to begin on the morning of September 28, 1781, he expected to be able to open trenches in the enemy’s front within four days, but he anticipated stubborn resistance by the British in the fortified posts of Yorktown and at Gloucester Point. The test of argument would be combat. About sunrise the van moved off towards the British positions, distant about twelve miles; the main American and French forces proceeded as a single supporting column for four or five miles and then Lincoln’s troops held to the right and Rochambeau’s men turned to the left. Marching was slow but no enemy was encountered. Towards evening the line was drawn across the fields and through the woods, part within gunshot of the British advanced works. The only interference was offered by some British dragoons who, when challenged by a few artillery shot, withdrew. As night approached, Washington had his men camp within approximately a mile of the enemy’s left.
The crossing of Great Run was effected easily on the morning of the twenty-ninth. The French heavy artillery was beginning to arrive in James River, opposite Trebell’s Landing, six or seven miles from camp. Until it arrived at the front there might be continuance of the infantry skirmishing, which broke out at intervals during the day, but Washington felt that his riflemen and Rochambeau’s chasseurs à pied could hold their own.
The approach was over sandy ground. Woods and open fields covered the plain. The scene of operations had military importance in three respects only: it was small, it directly commanded the deep York River, and it was confined in a most unusual way. Southwest and west of the town, ran deeply scarped Yorktown Creek. South and southeast, not so scarped, were Wormeley’s Pond and Creek. Between the marsh above Moore’s Mill, which was on Wormeley’s Pond, and the steep ravine of Yorktown Creek the plain was not more than half a mile wide and was known in part as Pigeon Quarter. This was the line of approach, or, from the British point of view, a narrow, defensible outer line. To force it might be costly; to turn it would be almost impossible on the British right because of earthworks constructed by Cornwallis’s engineers. Turning the British left in the vicinity of Moore’s Mill would be less difficult but would leave the allies at a considerable distance from the town.
When Washington looked at Pigeon Quarter some of his advance guard already had crossed the marsh above Wormeley’s Pond and widened the front on which his line could advance; but four British fortifications were located between the two creeks so that they could sweep all the approaches. Washington could see that these works had stout abattis and chevaux-de-frise and that from them, probably, a good view could be had both of the plain near the town and the inner fortifications. As far as he could make out, these approaches seemed easy. There appeared to be no superiority of any part of these earthworks over any other. On his left the British had two redoubts, not connected with each other or with the main lines and approximately four hundred yards in rear of them.
Washington studied as much as was visible from his points of vantage, studied it with more experienced eyes than ever had been at his command in the past. For the first time he had the two greatest luxuries of command—definite superiority of force and uniform competence of command. The result of his reconnaissance and conferences was a three-fold decision to expedite the transportation of the artillery from the James, organize large working parties for providing cover as soon as the advance could begin, and proceed on the assumption that the utmost vigor must be displayed against adversaries who would not surrender until they had lost the power to escape or fight longer.
The next morning, September 30, Washington learned that Cornwallis had saved him much labor. During the night the British had evacuated all three of their works in the plain. Abandonment of these defences led Washington to wonder if the British were preparing to retreat across the York or to the country up the river—a possibility that made him almost resentful of de Grasse’s hesitancy to have ships ascend the stream and close one of these lines of withdrawal. Be that as it might, Cornwallis’s withdrawal comforted Washington for a distressful incident of the day, the capture and cruel wounding of Col. Alexander Scammell, former Adjutant General and now a conspicuously able and gallant battalion commander in the light infantry.
MAP / 15
YORKTOWN, 1781
Washington decided to tighten immediately the cord around the neck of the British: On the direct approach to Yorktown, between the two creeks, two redoubts were to be constructed in line with those the British had quit. A new effort must be made to prevail upon de Grasse to send frigates up the York. The Admiral must be requested to supply marines he had said he would lend the Army for a coup de main—a request granted before it was renewed. As soon as the remainder of the siege artillery was brought up, the forces would be equipped to attack; with the aid of the French, one at least of Cornwallis’s avenues of escape would be closed. Next would come the swift construction of a trench opposite the enemy’s main defences and then the rapid fortification of this “curtain” with redoubts and artillery.
In classical siegecraft this was the “opening of the first parallel,” intended primarily to shorten the range for effective bombardment of the enemy’s works. To determine the proper position of the parallel, Washington made a reconnaissance within three hundred yards of the advance posts of the British. Further study of the plain disclosed no obstacle to drawing the parallel, but Washington reasoned that nothing was to be gained by occupying the ground before all the siege guns were at hand. While gabions and fascines were being made in large number and the redoubts were being finished, the major task was to find teams to transport the last of the heavy pieces from Trebell’s Landing. So long and wearing was this labor of dragging tons of iron through the sand that Washington did not celebrate and may not even have observed the completion on September 30 of what had been in many ways the great achievement of his Army after the Trenton campaign: On the final day of September, nearly all the most laggard sailing vessels from Head of Elk had cast anchor off College Creek, with the last of Rochambeau’s siege artillery. That had completed on the Virginia Peninsula the concentration for which Washington had written the initial orders at Dobbs Ferry August 16.
Soon there was pleasant news from Gloucester. The Marquis de Choisy assumed command there October 1 after arriving from Newport with Barras’s squadron, and he decided to draw the allied lines closer around Gloucester Point. On the morning of the third his van, passing down a lane slightly less than four miles from the Point, encountered the dragoons of Tarleton who were covering the return of a foraging party. Tarleton turned back with some of his troopers to protect the wagons—and met a prompt charge by cavalrymen as tough of fibre as his own. In a short time, the British leader pulled back. Choisy held the field and later advanced in formal siege of Gloucester Point. It was a small affair but in every way encouraging.
After the clash at Gloucester, everything indicated that the next scene was to be enacted in front of Yorktown, where the enemy kept up a steady fire October 4, 5, and the night of 5/6. Washington did not give back iron to earth in wasteful, aimless fire, but there was work enough, and rising hope besides, because reliable ox-teams now were being delivered at camp and being used to draw the guns towards the redoubts. Good augury attended good effort. On the fifth, Capt. William Pierce reached Headquarters with details of Greene’s battle of September 8. The action had occurred at Eutaw Springs, South Carolina, where Greene had attacked a force of British regulars to prevent the establishment there of a permanent post. After a hard fight the American leader had been compelled to withdraw, but he did not retreat far and when he heard the British had left Eutaw Springs on the evening of the ninth, he organized pursuit of what proved to be little more than a remnant retiring towards Charleston.
Washington’s engineers now were ready, they believed, “for serious operations”; the new fortifications and the strengthening of the occupied redoubts gave security to the troops who were to open the first parallel; entrenching tools and materials were adequ
ate if used economically.
Little beyond routine occurred during the morning of the sixth except for the belated issue of lengthy General Orders that covered “Regulations for the Service of the Siege.” The main task of the day was to convey fascines and gabions as far to the front as they could be carried without disclosing where the first parallel was to be. The trench was to begin directly east of the head of Yorktown Creek, cross the Hampton Road almost at right angles, and then swing on an arc to the high bank of York River, about six hundred yards from the parapet of the advanced British redoubt which also was located on the cliff. While no part of the parallel was to be nearer than this to the British defences, much of the line was to be fully eight hundred yards from them. Simultaneously with the construction of this parallel, the second part of the plan was to be executed: on the extreme allied left, next the river, some of Saint-Simon’s troops were to dig a narrow support trench and a battery from which the French could challenge a star redoubt across the creek. Moreover, with the guns of the proposed battery, the artillerists hoped to reach the British shipping in the river and destroy communication during daylight hours between York and Gloucester. This digging and stir on the British right was to serve still another purpose: it was intended to fix the enemy’s attention at that point and divert the British from close observation of the ground where the parallel was to be drawn.
As the afternoon of October 6 passed, Washington heard of no occurrence that would interfere with the execution of any part of the plan. At four o’clock some of the American troops paraded; at five the French were assembled and assigned their positions; as soon as night fell Rochambeau’s engineers told off the fatigue-parties, which filed out two hours later and began to dig. Washington listened anxiously, but heard no sound from the enemy’s front until about nine, when, on the British right, the watchdogs of the star redoubt started to bark. Soon there were growls on the centre and the right; nowhere except on the bank of the lower stretch of Yorktown Creek, where Saint-Simon was to make his diversion, did the cannonade rise to fury. Elsewhere the hours of the night dragged past, out of step with the staccato of the picks that beat double time along the parallel. Rain hampered the British cannoneers without troubling greatly the men who were shoveling the light, sandy soil. When daylight came the allied troops had good cover in the trench and four redoubts which were sufficiently advanced in construction to protect the garrison. Losses had been few.
The opening of the first parallel and the commencement of fire were several days apart in Washington’s planning. It was second nature with the thrifty American commander to conserve his ammunition. Within the time limit set by the presence of the French fleet, he would not waste a single shot until he had guns enough, close enough, to force Cornwallis’s surrender or make the storming of the British defences successful at minimum sacrifice of blood. Work on redoubts and batteries was pushed without interference. The French finished their battery that afternoon. By the ninth construction was so far advanced that artillery and stores were brought up. Before noon the work on the extreme right was complete. Because the French had excelled in preparation, Washington gave them the honor of beginning the bombardment at 3 P.M. Then the American cannon joined in. Quickly the allied gunners found the range and centred their fire effectively on the embrasures of the enemy’s works. To prevent repairs during the night, Washington had the two batteries continue their fire through the hours of darkness while busy hundreds of allied soldiers worked to bring more guns into position. As a reward of long toil, four additional batteries, two French and two American, were in order early on the tenth for the challenge of the enemy with approximately sixteen cannon and eight mortars, besides those that had been sounding since the previous afternoon—a total of at least forty-six.
The fire from the French left, near the river, was taken up on the Gloucester shore, when Choisy discovered a British force, crowded into six flatboats, that sought to get beyond his right flank. With help from Saint-Simon’s gunners, Choisy compelled the British to creep back to Gloucester Point. Washington observed with admiration the precision of the French fire. Before long the enemy was sending over about six shots only an hour—so few that Americans and French slackened their bombardment.
A flag of truce came from the town at noon. Word soon was passed that the flag covered “Secretary” Thomas Nelson, who was uncle of Gov. Thomas Nelson and had been residing in the large residence that dominated the profile of the town as seen from the right of the American position. He was able to give the camp the first reliable news that had come from Yorktown after the siege began: The bombardment had done much damage and had forced many of the British to take shelter under the cliff, where Cornwallis had established himself in a grotto. On the Gloucester side of the river, Nelson reported, the British were contained by the forces under Choisy. To some extent, officers and men were dispirited, Nelson continued, though they professed no apprehension for the safety of the town.
The probability of attack did not increase as the sun descended. The allied guns were pugnacious; the British fire was listless; embrasures on Cornwallis’s line manifestly were damaged, and even the outline of the parapets became ragged. By twilight the enemy’s batteries seemed almost to be silenced. Not long after nightfall there came from within the British lines a heavy column of black smoke. A large fire it must be; the reflection, now brighter, now dimmer, was visible nearly all night. By morning, the explanation was plain: Saint-Simon’s battery had turned its guns on two frigates that seemed to be maneuvering suspiciously during the afternoon. One of these, the Guadeloupe, got under cover of the land; the other, the Charon, soon was aflame from waterline to truck. This created intense alarm among the masters of other craft. Some were warped to safety; several others caught fire; Saint-Simon’s guns added more redhot round shot to the confusion. The final loss, four or five vessels, was a tribute to French artillerists and a warning of things to come.
October 11 brought satisfaction in the arrival from de Grasse’s fleet of two officers whom the Admiral had directed to determine whether it seemed worthwhile to run frigates past the town in order to close to Cornwallis the line of escape upstream that Washington still believed his adversary might attempt to follow. The officers said little on their return from the river, but, in Washington’s opinion, they “seemed favorably disposed” to the enterprise. The American General wrote to de Grasse in some detail why he believed the operation would be as safe, with favoring wind, as it was strategically desirable.
Washington had no intention of delaying the prosecution of the siege while he awaited de Grasse’s decision. Two more French batteries were going into action on the eleventh; as the British might expect further additions to the first parallel before another was opened, good strategy dictated labor on the second line at once. In undertaking this, the allies had to deal with the two advanced British redoubts on the left. So long as these redoubts were in enemy hands, they barred allied advance. Once secured, they would permit an enfilade of part of the enemy’s inner line and offer shelter for the final assault. They must be taken—but how? The engineers had a simple solution: from the eastern end of the French part of the first parallel troops would move out and construct part of the second as close to the advanced British redoubts as safety permitted, and then they would erect a strong epaulement or “shoulder.” If full advantage were taken of a slight rise of ground, execution of this design would reduce distance to the nearer British earthwork from 650 yards to approximately 330, perhaps even to 300 or less, without exposing the epaulement to intolerable fire. Once the advanced redoubts had been silenced or seized, the second parallel could be extended from the epaulement to the river bank.
No time was lost in carrying out the plan. Digging began at dusk. Some of the American parties escaped all cannonade; the French faced a heavy fire, which their artillery countered. Rochambeau’s lieutenants moved up reenforcements in expectation of a sortie. They had to deal with one alarm during the night, but they found i
t merely a clash of patrols. Before morning the troops were covered. “Lord Cornwallis’s conduct,” Washington wrote that day, “has hitherto been passive beyond conception; he either has not the means of defence, or he intends to reserve his strength until we approach very near him.”
The only change during the day was an increase in British cannon fire, which annoyed but did not delay the allied workmen. Washington felt that several days might pass before he could get the full measure of his adversary. Meantime, in the face of an increasing, mixed fire of round shot and shell, which exacted a higher toll on the thirteenth, preparations for the next phase of the siege went steadily on. Without waiting for these to be finished, Washington ordered the guns of all the other fortifications within range to open on the advanced works opposite the American right. Saint-Simon, on the allied left, began to pound the star redoubt. The British answer was no more spirited than usual, though it included some five-inch shells which could not be seen in flight.
About 2 P.M. the Commander-in-Chief was told that the engineers considered the British positions so heavily damaged that a successful assault was practicable. Washington did not wait for details: Lafayette with four hundred light infantry must make ready to assault the advanced redoubt next the river; Rochambeau was requested to send a force of his own choice against the nearer detached work—an honor the French leader gave to General Vioménil. Simultaneously with the attacks by Vioménil and Lafayette, the French were to demonstrate against the star redoubt and British lines in Gloucester. Although several hours must pass before the new gamble with fate began, ears already were being tuned for the sound of the six guns, fired in succession, that were to give the signal for the attack.
Before the afternoon ended Washington went to the French line, met Vioménil and heard with approval the details of that officer’s preparations. Then the Commander-in-Chief rode over to the ground where Lafayette’s officers were waiting. Battlefield oratory was not one of Washington’s acquirements, but he made a brief appeal, earnest if not eloquent: the participants in the assault, he said, must be firm, brave soldiers; the success of the attack on both redoubts depended on them. That was all. If, from the left flank, nervous fire of small arms presently was heard between the one-two of cannon shot, Washington of course knew what it meant: punctually and vigorously, Saint-Simon was launching his demonstration in the hope he might convince the British that he intended to attack. Had not distance drowned it, the sound of Choisy’s feint in Gloucester might have been audible, also.
Washington Page 83