“If they were well equipped and had good supplies of food and water, the siege could become a very long affair, requiring the attacking force to constantly resupply their own resources as they were depleted. If they were far from home, this could become problematic. Am I making this clear?” Billy asked. I nodded enthusiastically, finding myself interested in this history lesson.
“Good!” he continued, obviously pleased at my interest. “To hasten things along, so to speak, the siege force usually combined various methods of attack along with the conventional siege. They usually could not send troops openly against the well-defended position, so the devised methods of attacking from a safe distance. Rudimentary catapults would sling stones against the walls of a fort, or lob them into the enemy compound. These evolved into trebuchets, which were more powerful catapult engines that could hurl boulders, burning balls of pitch, or even large animal carcasses over fortress walls, creating fires and other injury, destruction and sickness among the enemy.
“When cannons came along, the attacking force was able to extend its own range even more and cause greater destruction without exposing individual soldiers to fire as would be directed at them during a frontal attack. Of course the defenders of the fortress also have cannons, and can fire on our positions as well. The effect is not as concentrated as our own directed fire because our armies are scattered over a much larger area, and every ball they fire at us depletes their stores of lead and gunpowder. Those stores, along with other essentials, could not be replenished because of the siege.
“I tell you all this because our battle plan was designed primarily around the siege to force the British to capitulate. Their Commander Prevost knew this as well, and according to reports General Lincoln received from defectors and captives, Prevost nearly surrendered when he saw the combined force encircling Savannah. It was only after he was able to deceive D’Estaing into giving him twenty-four hours to consider the surrender, hours which allowed Colonel Maitland to secret his large into the city and augment the British defense, that Prevost decided to dig in and fight.
“By the last week of September the blockade part of the siege was complete. Savannah was encircled by Colonial Regulars, Militia, troops from the French Army and Navy, and more than five-hundred Haitians who had made the journey from their country with the French to aid us in our bid for freedom. The French Navy was offshore, and both French and American galleys were in the river. The combined effect of these forces was to completely isolate Savannah from any source of resupply or reinforcement of their troop strength.
“American guns along with a few French cannon were in place by that time as well, but not in enough strength to completely cover the city with fire. We engaged in brief cannonades on occasion, more to harass than to inflict damage, and the British fired in kind at our positions. I will note that the British guns fired more intently upon the French, trying to keep at bay their siege trenches and efforts to place guns close to the city. To their credit, the French worked incessantly through the cannonade on their positions and were able to complete most of their planned emplacements for siege battery guns.
“By the third day of October the French had their gun placements completed. Between the French and American artillery and the galleys on the river, Savannah was surrounded by almost sixty guns. Heavy French cannons, many 12-and 18-pounders, were concentrated on the center and right. Lighter American Army guns, mostly 4-and 6-pounders that could be brought overland with the army on horse-drawn carriages, were concentrated on the left and in a position to protect the French mortars. That night the battery portion of the siege began in earnest. The bombardment was relentless for the next five days, but the British surrender was not forthcoming. We watched as fires raged through the night and screams of the wounded were constantly in the wind, but the Redcoats held firm. There were surprisingly few desertions from the city, but those who did cross the line brought with them horrible stories of civilian deaths, of small children killed, and of mothers who died with babies in their arms.” He stopped for a moment, obviously shaken from just the telling of the tale. Finally, he continued, “For one of my age, possibly for every soldier, it was almost too much to bear. It was reported during the midst of the bombardment that General Prevost had sent a missive to D’Estaing asking for safe passage out of the city for women and children. D’Estaing denied the request. On hearing this, my dislike for the man evolved into pure and certain hatred.
“It became apparent to the commanders after only two or three days of battering the city that our own supplies were diminishing at a rate that may have even exceeded that of the British. Food and water were not an insurmountable problem, for hunting parties could be sent far afield and there were springs about, but military supplies such as gunpowder and cannonballs were being quickly depleted in the bombardment, and could not readily be resupplied. The British were holding resolute in their defense. The siege was failing.
“The commanders put together an alternate battle plan, one that had been tentatively considered weeks before as an option if the siege was unsuccessful. We would attack the defensive perimeter! Plans were finalized during command meetings on the seventh and eighth of October. I did not attend any of the meetings, but General Pulaski, at the behest of General Lincoln, kept me apprised of command decisions. Because of D’Estaing’s penchant for erratic behavior and his unwillingness to follow Lincoln’s orders, my general still wanted me to keep an eye on the Frenchman.
Chapter 15
“At 11:00 pm on October 8, the eve of the planned attack, General Lincoln summoned me to his headquarters. He ordered me to ride to the French camp and assess their readiness. The general once again admonished me to remain hidden from General D’Estaing or any of his subordinates who might recognize me. He did not want D’Estaing to think I was sent as a spy, which, of course, I was. In any event, it was no problem for me to remain in the background and unseen by the French commanders.
“I tied my horse within sight of their camp fires and walked in to mingle with the common troops and move secretly to a point I could observe the state of organization and demeanor of the officers. I was shocked by what I saw. It took only moments to discern that General D’Estaing had, at the last minute and with no forewarning, rearranged entire companies of men into regiments with which they were unfamiliar, under officers they did not know. The planned column organization was in complete disarray, and there was much grumbling and dissention, not only within the ranks, but among high ranking officers. To make matters even worse, I had come to understand that French military organization and protocol was based as much on the officers’ social and political standing as with their official army or navy rank. D’Estaing’s reorganization had violated many of his officers’ sense of entitlement, which had added much to the disarray.
“The result of their commander’s strange behavior was that the French columns were very late in forming, and would be late to arrive. I, of course, did not know how late they would be at the time I was watching their organizational debacle, but quickly left the camp and rode back to report to my own commander. I included in my assessment of the situation that the French columns would be at least an hour behind their own schedule to join with our own army, and possibly much later. General Lincoln was livid. He was known to be a very mild-mannered gentleman in all his dealings with others, but on my delivery of this report he paced and cursed, calling the French commander names that I shall not repeat even now. I was actually fearful of his wrath, but after several minutes of tirade, which brought surprised glances into his tent by several officers who passed by, he calmed himself. My immediate assessment was that the general was as embarrassed by his reaction as he was angry at D’Estaing. He apologized to me for his unseemly behavior and thanked me for my prescient report. After another minute of silent pacing, he took a seat at his desk, a hand hewn affair much simpler in design and utility than that of the French commander.
“I admit I swelled with pride when he gazed at
me for a long moment before saying, “Young William, you have proven yourself to be a most valuable member of my corps. Your assessments of our troop movements and the British fortifications have been as accurate as those of my finest officers. For one so young,” he paused as if thinking about my age, “so incredibly young, you have a very mature understanding of what we attempt to accomplish.
“‘Ordinarily I would not speak ill of another officer’s abilities, especially to a militiaman, but you have proven yourself to be much more than that. You deserve to know about the Comp’t D’Estaing, and some of the reason of my dislike of him personally and my ire regarding his current actions. First, understand that the French commander is here of his own accord. He brought his ships here at our request, for we knew we could not retake Savannah by ourselves. He risks much, and I am appreciative of the force he provides.
“‘But D’Estaing is not here only for his desire to help us in this siege. In his mind, and in the minds of many Americans, he is thought of as a coward, as one who has run from trouble before in the face of the British enemy. In the summer of last year General D’Estaing had agreed to support General John Sullivan in his campaign against the British on Aquidneck Island in Rhode Island. Without belaboring the issue, D’Estaing, in command of the French fleet, withdrew from the battle after minor skirmishes with the British navy, and at the critical point refused to aid General Sullivan by landing French troops. He blamed his withdrawal on bad weather, of course, and his refusal of siege troops on his own assessment that the British were well dug in and any siege would result in failure.’ General Lincoln paused with a sigh. ‘The fact is, he ran. It is my belief that he is here in Savannah in large part due to his feeling of guilt and his desire to improve his family name in the Americas.
“‘I am uncertain of the man’s proficiency or even desire to command in the face of enemy fire, and his early actions in this planned attack only support my poor assessment of his command ability.’ He stopped speaking, the anger in his face replaced with a look of supreme sadness. After a long moment, he peered into my eyes and concluded, ‘I am sorry to burden you with this, William. In the coming hours I will need your eyes, your assessments of how the many segments of this battle are progressing. You need to know what to expect from the French, especially from their commander. He makes sudden, seemingly impulsive decisions that may change the tide of battle at any time. You needed to know the entire story and take it into account as you evaluate the flow of our charge.
“‘It is my greatest hope that General D’Estaing proves himself to be a better man and commander than I expect him to be.’ General Lincoln lowered his head and closed his eyes as if in silent prayer. He said nothing more for several minutes, prompting me to ask, ‘Sir, what are your orders?’
“The general quickly looked up. ‘Wait nearby,’ he said. ‘We cannot move until the French are ready, and we know not when that will be. If you have not been given orders within the hour, I may send you back to the French camp to see if they are joining the battle, or running back to their ships, or squabbling among themselves rather than facing the British.’ He looked resigned to a fate he could not change. ‘For now, we can only wait.’
“My mount was picketed near the general’s tent, contentedly munching on the little grass that had not been beaten down by the many boots and hooves that had traveled through the busy camp. I left the general and walked to the horse with the intent of taking him to water, but was intercepted by General Pulaski. The Count had been sitting upon his own magnificent steed nearby, listening to the commander’s uncharacteristic outburst. He dismounted and walked with me, then surprised me by taking my mount’s reins himself. Holding both horses, he called in German for one of his aides. ‘Sergeant Himmel,’ he said to the man, ‘please take my mount and that of Brevet Colonel Bucklin to water. We shall collect them in short order.’
“The German sergeant eyed me curiously, but said nothing. With a nod to the general he took the reins and led the horses away. Pulaski was smiling as he spoke to me in a Polish/English mix. ‘Sergeant Himmel was fighting with the British last week. He was stationed at their central redoubt and was able to observe a great deal of our force as we set up camp. Between the French, Americans, Haitians and others he estimated our numbers at over five thousand men, and decided we would easily overwhelm the British defenses. He decided to defect and cast his lot with us. There are many such in my command…Germans, Brits, Irish…but I, just as the other generals, have lost men to the British as well.’ He sighed. ‘It is a strange war. I heard one of the French colonels say this morning that one of the most difficult problems for them was to tell a patriot American from a Tory. I understand his difficulty.’
“Pulaski glanced toward General Lincoln’s tent and commented, ‘I hope you were not the target of the general’s rage. I do not speak English well, but I heard words come from his mouth that express the same sentiment in any language.’ He laughed as he patted my shoulder. ‘Only one who commands his trust and care could walk from his tent alive after such a tirade!’
“I smiled myself and answered, ‘General D’Estaing is far behind our schedule for the attack, and seems to be disrupting his own command in such a manner to assure failure. General Lincoln’s, ah…’ I thought for a proper Polish word, settling on and emphasizing, ‘niezadowolenie was directed toward the French general.’
“General Pulaski exploded in laughter, and a glance into General Lincoln’s tent revealed the commander scowling in our direction. ‘Displeasure!’ the Count howled through his laughter. ‘Yes, that was certainly displeasure I heard in the general’s tone.’ He slapped me on the back. ‘I like you, Master William. I really do. When this war is over, I should be pleased if you will consider a position on my staff. Whatever we should do, you will be a value and a good friend.’
“I was about to respond when the sounds of a scuffle and harsh words were heard in the distance. Pulaski’s smile evaporated as he barked an order in German. ‘Those Germans!’ he growled, exasperation in his tone. ‘They don’t get along with us any better than they did the British. I am sorry, Master William, but I must go and deal with this.’ As he hurried away toward the noise he turned back to me and shouted, ‘I shall see you after the battle.’
Chapter 16
“It was three hours later when the French finally marched into camp.” Billy continued. “They had become lost, at least according to officers in their lead column, because their guides did not know the terrain or trails they were to follow in the dark. There was still grumbling and fighting within elements of that column due to the soldiers’ aggrievement over being forced to follow newly assigned officers with whom they were unfamiliar and did not trust. When they finally did arrive, we were further delayed when General Lincoln was nowhere to be found.
“His anger had driven him to find some way to expend energy. Unknown to any of us he had ridden out on our left to reconnoiter the narrow trace through the swamp over which the French columns would approach the Spring Hill Redoubt. This route of attack had already been checked several times, both by infantry scouts and by General Pulaski’s cavalry, so I suspect Lincoln left the camp in effort to calm himself before being subjected to the arrogant tirades he knew would accompany the French commander when he finally arrived. Lincoln did return in short order, only to find the pompous General D’Estaing in camp pacing and placing blame on American ineptitude for the belatedness of his arrival. I was nearby when the two commanders met, and could see the anger I had previously witnessed growing in General Lincoln’ eyes as the French commander complained endlessly about the inept guides and other reasons he perceived were the cause of his tardiness. To his great credit, my general found the means to calm himself and assume a deportment worthy of the gentleman he was.
“It was nearing four o’clock in the morning before the first elements of the columns began to move out to their attack positions. The battle plans had called for a feint attack of the British central redoubt abou
t this time, but in the confusion of the delay no one had remembered it or taken the time to check on the progress of the company tasked with that attack. General Lincoln suddenly thought of it and, realizing that a feint at that very moment would have no effect at all as a diversion from the main attack, he ordered me to ride posthaste to find the diversionary company and advise them to postpone their attack for at least an hour.
“As had happened with the French, the company I was seeking was as lost and confused as the other columns, and was happy to hear their inability to attack on time had become a good thing. They assured me they would be ready for the attack within the hour, and I reported that back to General Lincoln, who was moving out toward his position as commander of the artillery reserve.”
I have no idea of the emotional makeup or mental stamina of the community of ghosts, but it seemed to me that Billy was tiring of telling the story of the battle. He had begun to wander rather aimlessly through the museum as he spoke, and seemed to be easily distracted by the many artifacts arranged throughout the room. “Billy, you seem to be tiring,” I said. “Would you like to take a break from the story and rest a bit, or find some other activity as a distraction?”
He was once more looking into one of the cases containing relics from the battle, most of which were found buried within only a short distance from the case itself. “Yes,” he said simply. “Yes, I do tire of the story. As you might imagine, it is a very personal thing for me, and the telling of it is stressful even though I am only a spirit.” He reached his hand into the case and, even though he was not within my body and could not actually touch it, waved his fingers over a small coin as if to caress it.
“I have always found it interesting,” he said while ‘touching’ the coin, “that the metals we use for everyday work and for military purposes tend to rust away quickly when put in the ground, and soon are gone.” He looked at me before continuing, “But the metals from which we make our currency and our tributes to those we wish to remember can be buried for generations and do not return to the elements of the earth. Is it the metal itself that is indestructible, or is it the memory of those preserved within the shape of the metallic form, I wonder, that makes the coin immortal?”
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