America At War - Concise Histories Of U.S. Military Conflicts From Lexington To Afghanistan

by Terence T. Finn

  On July 3, Washington took command of the newly established Continental army, in a field in Cambridge not far from Harvard College. But already a fierce battle had taken place.

  On the night of June 16, 1775, the New Englanders fortified Breed’s Hill on the Charlestown peninsula, across from Boston proper. The next day Gage attacked. His strategy was not subtle. He ordered a direct assault up the hill. Gage, Howe, and Clinton wanted to show the rebels the unstoppable might of Britain’s regular army. They did so though the first two attacks were repulsed. The third succeeded in part because the Americans ran short of ammunition. Toward the end of the battle, fighting occurred on Bunker Hill, elevated land to the north. By nightfall, the British controlled the peninsula. But they had paid a steep price: 27 of their officers had been killed, with 63 wounded. Casualties among ordinary soldiers were staggering: 226 killed and 828 wounded. The Americans—all their troops were New England militia—had more than 400 killed or wounded. Despite the outcome, the rebels claimed victory. They had met the best England could throw at them and done well. And in a scenario that would be replayed again and again, they had lived to fight another day.

  The shots fired at Lexington, Concord, and Breed’s Hill were significant. They marked the beginning of an eight-year conflict from which a new nation would emerge, but only after the ground had absorbed much British, German, Canadian, French, and American blood.

  How had it come to this? How had the Americans arrived at the point of such opposition to British rule that muskets and bayonets had become the vehicles of dissent? After all, the colonists under George III had enjoyed a good life. The thirteen Atlantic coastal colonies were economically prosperous. They were, essentially, self-governing. They enjoyed privileged access to Britain’s mercantile system. On the high seas their ships were safeguarded by the Royal Navy. On land, the king’s army, in defeating the French and their Native American allies, had removed external threats. And in the matter of taxation, the Americans paid considerably less in taxes per capita than their fellow subjects in England.

  Yet the colonists revolted, or at least a large number of them did. Why? Essentially, they objected to British interference in their lives. In communities established to secure religious freedom, they resented one form of worship being sanctioned by the state. In a society that traditionally distrusted standing armies, they disliked the presence of soldiers in their homes and towns. In colonies where land was available to any free and enterprising man, they objected to a Royal Decree (“the Proclamation Line”) that, in setting the inland boundaries of the colonies, forbade settlers from moving west beyond the Appalachian mountains into lands reserved for Native Americans. And regarding London’s insistence on taxing the colonists, they opposed revenue-raising measures in which they had no say.

  Boston was not the only battleground in 1775. In late fall the Americans invaded Canada. In doing so, they hoped to forestall British attacks from the north, spread mischief among the French-speaking inhabitants, and if possible, annex their northern neighbor as the fourteenth colony. The invasion itself was two-pronged. One force, led by Generals Philip Schuyler and Richard Montgomery, proceeded via Lake Champlain and Montreal. Another, with Benedict Arnold in command, trekked through the Maine woods. Their joint objective was Quebec, for whoever held that city controlled Canada. Unfortunately for the Americans winter had arrived by the time they reached Quebec. The invaders were woefully short of food, clothing, military supplies, and men, many of whom had deserted or died. Moreover, French citizens remained loyal to Britain, and the king’s commander, Sir Guy Carleton, was more than equal to his task.

  On the last day of December 1775, Montgomery and Arnold—an ill Schuyler having returned to New York—led a desperate, nighttime attack on the city. It failed. Quebec, and therefore Canada, remained in British hands. Montgomery was killed and Arnold, with his ragtag force, departed, thoroughly dispirited and decisively defeated.

  By the spring of 1776 Gage had been recalled and Howe was now commander of British forces in Boston. These numbered approximately eight thousand men. Washington, laying siege to the city, had almost twice as many. What he did not have, and needed, were cannons. Until Colonel Henry Knox, later his commander of artillery, went to Fort Ticonderoga, located at the northern end of Lake George, and, in a remarkable feat, dragged fifty-eight cannons three hundred miles through the mountains to Boston. Washington placed these on Dorchester Heights, overlooking the city. Howe’s position became vulnerable and he evacuated Boston on March 17. The Americans legitimately could claim a major victory.

  Four months later, on July 4, they declared their independence. The day before the Americans signed their historic document, the British, determined to restore the Crown’s authority, landed thirty thousand troops on Staten Island in New York. Conveyed in 170 ships, the force—under the command of William Howe—constituted the largest military expedition England had ever sent abroad. Included among the soldiers were several regiments of German mercenaries.

  Expecting an attack on New York, Washington had brought his army south. He occupied the city, some twenty-five thousand people living mostly at the tip of Manhattan, and fortified Brooklyn Heights across the East River on Long Island, where, as on Dorchester Heights, artillery could be decisive.

  Howe struck on August 22, 1776. He landed troops in Brooklyn and, in a major battle, defeated his opponents, inflicting well over one thousand casualties and taking an equal number of prisoners, while losing only four hundred men. Washington, however, avoided capture. With his remaining forces he retreated to Manhattan, skillfully executing a nighttime crossing of the river that separates the two islands.

  Urged to follow up on this victory quickly, Howe hesitated. He waited until September 13 before attacking again. This time British troops crossed the East River and landed at Kips Bay (at the site of the present 34th Street). They soon controlled Manhattan, save one fort. A month later Howe sent them across Long Island Sound to Throgs Neck, where, in late October, a fierce battle took place at White Plains. Who won is debatable, but regardless, the British turned south and in mid-November captured the remaining fort on Manhattan. Its loss was catastrophic for the Americans, who had more than two thousand men killed or taken prisoner while handing over vast amounts of supplies to the English. Afterward, Washington, who had been outgeneraled by Howe, moved the remnants of his army north, crossing the Hudson River at Peekskill, and then retreated south into New Jersey. Late in the year, pursued by the British, he crossed the Delaware River into Pennsylvania, with his army and the Continental cause close to collapse.

  Howe was knighted for his successful campaign in New York. As the weather turned cold, he established a series of outposts in New Jersey to keep an eye on Washington. Confident he could end the rebellion in the spring, Sir William and his army settled into comfortable winter quarters in Manhattan.

  Encamped by the Delaware, Washington’s army lacked shelter, food, and clothing, and it soon would lack men as many enlistments were due to expire the first day of January. Bleak as the situation was, it was made worse by the winter weather that brought snow to the land and ice to the river.

  Most generals would have given up or tried simply to survive. Not George Washington. He devised an offensive operation daring in the extreme. Three columns of troops would cross the river at night and attack British outposts, and they would do so the day after Christmas, when the enemy, Hessian mercenaries, could be expected to be resting after an evening of revelry.

  On Christmas Day 1776, the Continental army moved out. Two of the columns failed to cross a Delaware River that was clogged with chunks of ice. But, thanks to Colonel John Glover’s Marblehead, Massachusetts, men—who had transported Washington and his men across the East River in the retreat from Brooklyn—and to Washington himself, the main column, some twenty-five hundred troops, made the crossing. They then marched eight miles in the bitter cold, many without shoes, to the town of Trenton, where fourteen hundred Hessian soldi
ers were stationed. Washington attacked, and in less than ninety minutes, he crushed the Germans. They suffered 22 dead, 98 wounded, and had 918 men taken prisoner. The Americans had fewer than 10 killed or wounded.

  Howe responded to this unexpected setback by dispatching Charles, Lord Cornwallis, to deal with Washington. With five thousand British soldiers, Cornwallis marched south from New York and cornered his opponent near Trenton, leaving a rearguard at Princeton. On January 2, his position established to his satisfaction, Cornwallis waited until morning, when he hoped and expected to finish off Washington and his little army.

  But, once again, George Washington did not stay put. Unbeknownst to the British, he slipped away at night and in the morning surprised those redcoats left behind at Princeton. The result was a battle the Continental army clearly won, small in scale perhaps, but a victory nonetheless.

  In less than ten days, at a time of year when armies traditionally did not campaign, Washington in two bold strokes rescued the Continental cause. What had become a failing enterprise was revitalized. The successes at Trenton and Princeton embarrassed the British, gave hope to the American army, and restored faith in Washington’s leadership. But most important of all, the victories meant that the war for independence, if not yet won, most certainly had not been lost.

  By the spring General Howe was ready to renew the war. He chose to target Philadelphia, with forty thousand inhabitants the largest city in the colonies, and the de facto capital of the Americans. Choosing to travel by sea rather than marching through New Jersey, he and his eighteen thousand men sailed from New York and in August disembarked at the northern tip of the Chesapeake Bay, some forty miles from the Pennsylvania city. Roughly halfway between lay Brandywine Creek. There, Washington moved his troops into position to defend Philadelphia, and the two armies met. The Continental army fought well, but Howe’s generalship and the redcoats’ skill were evident. The British prevailed.

  Washington retired in good order and encamped northwest of the city. Howe placed his troops nearby, in Germantown, and directed Cornwallis, with four thousand soldiers, to occupy the city, which he did, entering Philadelphia on September 26, 1777. Lord Charles and his men were warmly welcomed. Philadelphia may have hosted the Continental Congress (which fled to York), but its citizens, at least many of them, were loyalists at heart.

  Once again, Washington rallied his men, and to Howe’s surprise, they attacked the British troops stationed in Germantown. The battle took place on October 4. Washington’s plan was complicated and confusion reigned, with, at one point, Continental soldiers firing on one another. The British rallied and, in the end, won the battle. The Americans had about one thousand men killed or wounded; the British half that number.

  By the end of 1777 the two principal cities in America, New York and Philadelphia, were under British control. The Continental army had been beaten at both Brandywine and Germantown. And many Americans, from Georgia to New Hampshire, had remained loyal to the king. Thus Howe had reason to be pleased. But he was not. Sir William knew that up north, near Albany, disaster had struck: an entire British army had surrendered to the rebels.

  John Burgoyne was a playwright, a member of parliament, and a man who enjoyed London society. He was also a major general in the British army. Lord George Germain was a politician, retired soldier, and a favorite of the king’s who served in government as secretary of state for the American colonies. In this latter capacity he in essence directed the British war effort. Early in 1777, Burgoyne proposed to Germain a plan that would strike hard at the rebels and lead, he believed, to a successful conclusion of the war.

  Burgoyne proposed that he lead an army south from Canada into New York. A smaller force would attack from the west, traveling east across the Mohawk Valley. At the same time Howe in Manhattan would launch a major attack up the Hudson. The three forces would converge at Albany and destroy the rebels. The resulting victory would isolate the New England colonies, enabling His Majesty’s troops to deal separately and methodically with the other provinces. Moreover, when they saw a large British force achieve success in battle, those Americans still loyal to the king would rise in support, while those on the fence would swing to the British side.

  The plan was not without merit, and it gained Germain’s approval. Unfortunately for the British and for Burgoyne, its execution was to be flawed. An earlier attack from Canada in 1776 had failed due to winter weather and Benedict Arnold’s vigorous defense at Valcour Island. Nevertheless, Burgoyne, promoted to lieutenant general, was confident his expedition would succeed.

  In June 1777 his army began to move. It was composed of approximately seven thousand men and consisted of British regulars, German mercenaries, Canadian militia, and three hundred Native Americans, the latter to serve as scouts. Its artillery numbered 138 field pieces, and its excessively large number of supply wagons, according to one historian, carried “numerous ladies of high and low estate.”

  At first the expedition went well. The British secured Fort Ticonderoga in July and later defeated a small rebel force at Hubbardton. Then everything turned sour. Burgoyne chose to proceed through the forests rather than by water, causing a delay that gave the Americans time to react. Supplies began to run low. The Native American scouts proved unreliable. The force coming from the west was stopped in battles at Oriskany and Fort Stanwix. An effort by the Germans to secure much needed food and horses was crushed near Bennington. And, incredibly, Germain did not order Howe to march north to Albany (Sir William proceeded south to Philadelphia). So Burgoyne and his depleted force were left to fight alone.

  During the War for Independence, American forces operated in three areas or departments. Washington commanded the main army and waged war primarily in Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and lower New York. A Northern Department and a separate Northern army carried on the fight in New England and upstate New York. The Southern Department operated in Virginia, the Carolinas, and Georgia. Although Washington was the Continental army’s commander in chief, he did not appoint general officers. Congress did. It did so often with political parameters, as each colony demanded its share of brigadiers and major generals.

  To command the Northern Department Congress first appointed Philip Schuyler, who, on his return from Canada, creditably organized Northern forces. In actual command of the Northern army was Major General Horatio Gates, ably assisted by Benedict Arnold, Benjamin Lincoln, and Daniel Morgan. Much was expected of Gates, the Continental army’s first adjutant general. He did not disappoint. When Burgoyne finally arrived in the vicinity of Albany, Gates positioned his army to fight. In September the first battle took place at Freeman’s Farm. The outcome was a draw with both sides sustaining substantial losses. The second battle occurred early in October at Bemis Heights, where, in large part due to Arnold’s leadership, the British were defeated. Burgoyne then retreated toward Saratoga, where, surrounded by an army far larger than his and running out of supplies, he surrendered on October 17, 1777.

  The capitulation by Burgoyne and his army had an effect far greater than simply the removal of a British army from the field, significant though that was. Freeman’s Farm and Bemis Heights provided the French the opportunity to convince themselves that aiding the Americans would be advantageous to King Louis. As a monarchy France had little reason to support a revolt against a king. But assisting those who were fighting a traditional enemy, in this case, Great Britain, had much to recommend it.

  So, early in 1778, the American colonies and the Kingdom of France signed a treaty under which the latter would provide the former with money, arms, and soldiers. Already, France surreptitiously had sent over the first two (as had the Dutch). Now soldiers came as well. In July 1780 four thousand well-trained, well-equipped French troops under the command of the Comte de Rochambeau arrived in America, disembarking at Newport, Rhode Island. One of the first steps taken by Rochambeau was to place his forces under the command of George Washington. Just as important to the American cause was the financial
support France provided. During most of the conflict, the Continental Congress and its armies had little money. Moreover, the currency the Congress issued declined in value so that, more often than not, American generals in command lacked funds to pay their troops or purchase supplies. French money rectified this.

  French assistance also was rendered on the high seas. France contributed to the military equation something the Americans neither had nor could have. That was a fleet capable of challenging the Royal Navy.

  Three times a French fleet sailed to America. In July 1778, warships flying the fleur-de-lis appeared off New York and Newport. But their efforts were of little consequence and in November they departed. A year later a large naval force, in company with American infantry, attacked the British-held city of Savannah. The attack failed and many French sailors and marines were killed. So, again, the ships departed. The third expedition, a fleet under the command of the Comte de Grasse, entered the Chesapeake in 1781. Its efforts—to be explained later—would prove decisive.

  Though it was small, the Americans did possess a navy. In October 1775, the Continental Congress approved the outfitting of several small warships, and one month later in Philadelphia, John Adams drafted “Rules for the Regulation of the Navy of the United Colonies.” Earlier, George Washington had secured his own collection of vessels that attacked British supply ships. By 1777, when his “fleet” disbanded, the general’s naval force had captured fifty-five prizes.

  Late in 1775, the Congress authorized the construction of thirteen frigates (requiring that they be built in seven different colonies) and appointed the first officers of the Continental navy. Of the five first lieutenants so designated, the most senior was a Scotsman named John Paul Jones.