I know in my heart that you have already written and I curse the distance that delays your letter. I will treasure whatever words you write, read and reread them, until your next letter. Your words and the memories we share of our brief time together will sustain me as does the thought that this Separation we must endure will end and we will be entwined again as one.
Your loving husband
Will The men of the 2nd Regiment of Colonel Angell’s Rhode Islanders marched eagerly along the pike. They had passed Hartford two days ago and were near the border between Connecticut and Rhode Island. They needed no encouragement and covered eighteen to twenty miles a day, easily outdistancing their wagons loaded with their tents, cots and baggage. Each day ended with their camping just before sunset, waiting for the train, setting up their tents, lighting cooking fires, eating and sleeping. The next morning before daybreak, they struck their tents, ate a cold breakfast, filled their canteens if there was water nearby, and set off. They were part of General Varnum’s Brigade being sent to reinforce the Continental Army in Rhode Island. The men needed no incentive to proceed with the utmost speed, although they had been promised by Colonel Angell they would have a week’s leave, depending upon the military circumstances when they arrived.
Two nights after they crossed into Rhode Island some of the men swore they could smell the ocean, although they were more than twenty miles from the coast.
“’Tis your imagination, “ Private Oliver Whipple stated. “Look,” he said holding up a green leaf. The wind is blowing from the northwest.” They were sitting around the cooking fires having unloaded their pots and pans from the wagon, leaving the tents lying on the ground until later. Hunger took precedence over comfort for the moment.
“I know which way the wind blows but I smell it for certain,” Abraham Fish insisted with conviction in his voice.
“I smell roasting beef,” one of the soldiers around the fire said.
The others laughed agreeably. Their morale was high because they
were going home, regardless of whatever military actions lay ahead.
That night, Henry and Oliver and some of the others ambled around
the camp, past the tents of the Rhode Island militias, beyond the
Massachusetts and New Hampshire State Regiments and up a hilltop. “From here, one can indeed smell the sea,” Oliver said, looking
toward the east. Henry found the north star and turned his face
northeast toward where he knew Providence lay. “We will be home
soon, Oliver. I fear with all these troops marching the Generals have
plans for battle, where I cannot say.”
Oliver turned around and surveyed the sparks of yellow flames
dotting the darkness. “’Tis a pretty sight, like giant fireflies, but for
knowing that around each light, there sits men armed who will soon
be in the thick of it and many will not emerge unharmed.” Henry thought of the men from Providence, with whom he had
signed up, who were no more. Killed at Fort Mercer, Brandywine
and Germantown, dead of disease at Valley Forge, or wounded and
invalided and sent home. After all they had been through, and to be
this close and not to see his wife Judith and his little Sally, would be
more than he could bear.
In the first week of August, under a clear blue sky, the men of
the 2nd Rhode Island Regiment marched into Providence, every one
of them grinning, and occasionally, in a breach of military discipline,
waving to the crowds lining the streets. They assembled on the
Common to hear their orders for the day read to them - four days
leave, with those from Providence required to report for Regimental
Roll Call each morning at 8 a.m. 2 The men roared their approval and
upon being dismissed raced down the familiar stone streets to their
homes. Others headed for the waterfront to habituate the bars and
brothels eager for their patronage.
Early on August 6th, under overcast skies to match their glum
mood, they left Providence and by nightfall set up camp at Tiverton
on the mainland across from British-held Aquidneck Island, with
Newport at its southern tip. They could hear cannon fire to the
southwest.
“’Tis the Frenchies giving the Brits a pounding,” Fish said. “Too
close to be from the river,” he said authoritatively. “Their ships are
more likely near Newport in the bay channel.”
“Maybe the Redcoats will surrender and we can all return to our
homes again,” a soldier’s voice said hopefully from the darkness. “For
me, there are a few more girls to try at Mrs. Humphrey’s,” another
added to ribald laughter, whistles and hoots.
Henry smiled and nudged Oliver. “You have not said much since
leaving Providence.”
“My little girls have grown. The youngest did not recognize me
but warmed after a day. They almost starved while I was away. Now, I am off again.” He waved his arms helplessly. “Worse for me, my brother-in-law was part of a prize crew and narrowly escaped capture when a British sloop intercepted them off the Maine coast. It took him the better part of a fortnight to return home, poorer than when he first
left. I cannot look to him to support my family.”
Henry had no words of consolation. He had been overjoyed to be
with Judith and Sally again and they to see him. He too had noticed his
wife had seemed thinner, her face pinched and more harried looking.
Food and necessities were expensive and his pay was worth less each
month. The good patriotic merchants of Providence were reluctant to
extend credit, lower prices or even offer a little charity. He and Oliver
and the rest of his regiment who had signed up for the duration were
fighting to defend these people who were getting richer because of the
war. Damn them, he cursed. Filthy war profiteers. Then he dampened
his anger. No good would come of it.
“At least Oliver, we are close to our loved ones. After this business
is over, I am certain we will be given leave again. And with the French
fleet in the Bay, surely Providence will favor our efforts.” Whipple
shrugged in reply. “Perhaps,” was all he said.
The following day, the Regiment was ferried across the Sakonnet
River and together with the rest of the Brigade marched down the
eastern side of the island. For a week they left their muskets in their
tents and dug entrenchments within cannon shot of the British
batteries in Newport. The first few days were easier. Then steady rains
came, filling their trenches with pools of water, the newly shoveled
soil slick under foot and the earth turned to heavy muck. All work
halted during a storm of hurricane force that blew for two days. When
it ended, heavy cannon were brought up and positioned in the newly
dug emplacements. The bombardment of the British positions was
continuous. In response, their cannons lobbed the occasional ball at
the Americans at night to disturb them.
The early morning began with the usual artillery answered by
a substantial barrage from the British battery. The men of Captain
Ward’s company occupied the trenches and were relieved around
midafternoon. In the waning light, when they returned to their tents after gathering wood for cooking fires, they noticed dust rising from
the East Road.
“Reinforcements,” Fish said, shielding his eyes with his hand.
“No,” he concluded quickly, “they are troops an
d wagons heading
toward Howland’s Ferry and Tiverton.”
“Maybe the Generals think we have enough men already to storm
the British in Newport,” one soldier said sarcastically. Henry was
puzzled but remained silent. He noticed Lieutenant Tew moving from
place to place speaking quietly to the small groups of men. When he
reached their platoon, he squatted down on his haunches and talked in
a low voice. Henry liked the Lieutenant. He had brought a letter from
Judith to Valley Forge, a kindly gesture.
“Men,” Tew said. “The French fleet, battered by the hurricane
and bloodied by the British Navy, have left their position off Newport
and sailed to Boston for repairs and refitting.”
There was a chorus of groans. “And the French troops?” a voice
inquired from the gathering darkness, barely masking the owner’s
contempt. “The ones they landed with all that musick and such?” “They are on board their ships and will disembark in Boston as
well.”
“We can still take the Redcoats, Sir,” Fish said. “Drive them out
of Newport.” Others joined in agreeing with his sentiment. Tew nodded his accord. “Your steadfastness is admirable and I
know the Colonel will be proud. Unfortunately, when the news spread
among the militias, entire regiments deserted en masse and at this very
moment are leaving the Island. 3
There were various cries of dismay at the abandonment of the
Army by both the French and the militias.
“Damn Frenchies. I knew we could not trust them.” “To hell with them. What about our own militias? Ill-trained
farmers who run at the first sign of battle. Damn them all.” Lieutenant Tew waited for the men to finish venting their
frustrations. After the insults and complaints had died down, he
addressed them again. “Tonight, we must maintain the appearance of
full strength. You will return to the trenches. Sentries will be assigned
between the lines.
We do not want these Redcoats to become emboldened too soon.” 4 Henry’s sentry duty was from midnight to four o’clock. The
parole was “Saratoga,” the countersign was “Victory.” There were ten
of them in a copse of trees and shrubs, chilled in the dark, without
a fire to warm them. By common understanding, no one spoke in
louder than a whisper. They were on the extreme right of the American
trenches and could hear the guttural German of the Hessians behind
their fortifications. Their talk died down in the early morning hours
and all was quiet.
Oliver heard the noise first, a foot stepping on a branch, then
a sucking sound of a boot being pulled from the mud. More sounds
of movement, quietly creeping toward them. He touched Henry’s
arm who nodded and alerted the man next to him. They all knelt
and raised their muskets. Oliver shouted the password and dropped
to the ground as the reply of musket balls whistled in his direction.
Henry sighted on the muzzle flash, fired and hurriedly reloaded. He
hid behind a tree and waited. Another volley from the advancing
enemy raked the shrubs and branches. He fired again, this time below
the flash of a musket held by a standing soldier. There were several
screams for help in German, followed by groans and retreating noises
of bodies being hauled away as they cried out in pain. Henry did not
fire where he thought the enemy was. They were withdrawing and that
was enough. At dawn, they discovered the bulk of the American Army
had retreated up the Island. 5 Colonel Angell’s Regiment was now part
of the rearguard.
After marching for no more than half an hour, Henry and his
company took up positions behind a stone wall on both sides of the
road leading up the west side of the island. Through the chinks in the
stone he could see the Hessians advancing toward them, led by some
light infantry in hunting green uniforms. Their first disciplined volley
decimated the Hessians’ well-ordered lines. The next volley, fired by
their second line forced the enemy to hesitate and then retreat. The
platoon was ordered to reload and hold their positions.
Again the Hessians came on and once again the Rhode Islanders
fired two volleys. This time, instead of remaining, his company
retreated in good order. Henry lost count of how many times, in the valley between gentle sloping hills, they crouched behind stone walls, fences or hedgerows marking the farmers’ fields. Each time, they let the Hessians closer before firing devastating volleys, took fire in return
and then, after delaying the enemy’s advance, withdrew. They took cover behind yet another stone wall and waited for the
oncoming enemy. After taking two concentrated volleys, the Hessians
continued their advance and, for the first time that morning, made
it to the American lines. Henry, with the stone wall in front of him,
raised his musket at an angle, planted his feet firmly and impaled a tall
mustached soldier attempting to leap over the rocks. He sidestepped
the Hessian who toppled over, his chest bloody and then on the order of
“Charge Bayonets,” clambered over the wall. Surprised at the intensity
and fury of the attack, the Hessians retreated but formed up quickly.
Henry heard an officer call for them to “Halt!” and “By Company!
Ready! Take Aim! Fire!” The Hessians were arrayed no more than fifty
feet away, their front rank kneeling. The first and second ranks’ volleys
struck the Hessians before their first line had fired. Their thinning line
did manage a round and several men in the Company fell. As the Rhode Islanders retreated in good order through an
orchard, the Hessians brought up their field pieces, the range being too
great for muskets. Henry saw a ball land close behind Oliver, spewing
up a column of soft earth and knocking Oliver to the ground. Henry
and two others rushed over. Oliver lay on his face, blood oozing from
his ears, his arms hidden underneath him so it was difficult for Henry
to know if they had been blown off. To his joy, Oliver groggily raised
himself to his knees and with Henry’s help scrambled to his feet and
rejoined their ranks.
The orchard ended at the top of a slight incline, marked by
another stone wall. There their Company again took up positions and
rested. Henry felt a wetness on his side. Fearing the worst, he pulled
back his jacket. He saw to his relief, his shirt above his breeches was
soaked but not bloody. He reached for his canteen and discovered it
had been holed by musket balls in two places and the water had leaked
on to him. Sheepishly, he looked at Oliver and grinned. Oliver smiled
back and then gestured with his chin. The Hessians were advancing
once again.
This time, Lieutenant Tew instructed them to fire two volleys
and then retreat at quick step to a redoubt, a U-shaped fortification of
earth and stone on a small hill to their rear. They took their positions
behind the earthen works of stone and soil alongside other units that
had been part of the rolling retreat. To his right were the blacks of
the First Rhode Island Regiment, their white hunting frocks and
breeches begrimed with dirt and gunpowder. On Henry’s
left was a
light infantry regiment he did not recognize.
The Hessians, their ranks three deep and drums beating, gave a
loud yell that carried above the noise of battle and charged up the hill. “Aim low,” Lieutenant Tew shouted to his company of soldiers to
the right of the battery. “They wear a strap across their chests which
ends at the hip. Aim to the right of the hip.”
Henry found it easy from their height on the slope to depress his
musket barrel. He sighted on the white strap, followed it down to the
soldier’s hip, moved his barrel slightly to the right, and at the order,
fired. Their volley was effective as the front line buckled, with many
falling, and then the momentum of the second two ranks propelled
the remnants of the first rank forward. The second volley tore into
the oncoming Hessians and Henry, having reloaded, fired again. The
Hessians regrouped, charged yet again and once more they were met
with a hail of musket fire as well as three pound balls from the field
pieces, which bounced down the hill and through the forward ranks
into soldiers coming up behind.
Henry heard the Lieutenant shouting to retreat by Company.
Along with the rest of the Regiment they made a hasty descent on the
open, northern side exposed to musket fire from the redoubt they had
abandoned, and up the slope to a much higher hill that was held in
force by their own troops. They passed through the lines to cheers of
the soldiers manning the fortifications. Captain Ward’s Company was
positioned along gaps in the line and awaited a new assault. It seemed to
Henry as if much of the army held this hill in force, having benefitted
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