Captain Fitz

by Enid Mallory

  The Adventures of Billy Green

  If anyone actually enjoyed the War of 1812, it was Billy Green. Born on the Niagara Escarpment, he roamed the ravines and paths and knew every cave and lookout. He was 19 when he heard that the Americans were coming and, with his brother Levi, set out to see for himself. When they saw the troops moving below the escarpment, Billy and Levi terrified them with war whoops, then ran off. They came upon a lone soldier, hit him with a stick, and got themselves fired upon. They made their way to Levi’s house on the edge of the mountain and watched the soldiers arrive at Stoney Creek, getting shot at again.

  Billy went to check on his sister Keziah, and discovered that her husband, Isaac Corman, had been taken prisoner. Billy went to look for Isaac, heard his owl-hoot signal, and met him in the woods. Isaac described what happened after his capture:

  The major and I got to talking and he said he was second cousin to General Harrison. I said I was a first cousin of General Harrison [which was true] and came from Kentucky. After a little longer a message came for the major; he said “I must go: you may go home Corman.” I said I couldn’t get through the lines. He said “I will give you the countersign,” and he did.

  Isaac gave the countersign to Billy, who took Levi’s horse, Tip, and rode off to Burlington Heights, where he told his story to Colonel Harvey.

  Once Harvey had the password, as well as a layout of the camp that Fitz had drawn, he started his men marching toward Stoney Creek. Billy Green, who assured them he knew every inch of the area, was given a sword and led the way. He said the men kept falling behind. “I told them it would be daylight before we got there if we did not hurry. Someone said it would be soon enough to be killed.”

  After the battle, Billy and his neighbours got oxen and a stone boat and helped to bury the dead soldiers on a knoll near the road at Stoney Creek.[3]

  Agnes FitzGibbon says he let the Americans think he was giving them valuable information (all of it erroneous) on the state of affairs in the British camp. In fact, he was seeing and hearing all that the British needed to know about the American camp. Meanwhile, a young lad named Billy Green had learned the American password. Both FitzGibbon and Billy Green hurried to Burlington Heights with their information. Fitz was convinced that a night attack would work. Harvey took the plan to Vincent and, after deliberation, Vincent agreed upon it.

  There was little time to lose. In the morning, the Americans would attack them and with their superior numbers they would force the British to flee and abandon the peninsula. Colonel Procter and the whole western country would then fall to the Americans. They had only that night to change the course of history.

  At eleven o’clock, the men who were already asleep on the grass were awakened and the march toward the enemy started. A brief rain shower fell on the men as they started through the pitch-dark night.

  FitzGibbon was commanding the 5th company from the head of the column. He says they had about 700 men, Merritt says 590. When they were five kilometres out, the march was stopped and the men were told they were undertaking a night attack. At this point the loading was drawn from each man’s gun.

  Fitz knew as he withdrew the flint from his own gun that this would cost lives. Men would have to stand under enemy fire and concentrate on the awkward task of replacing a flint. Many would fall without succeeding. But it had to be. James knew very well the excitable Irish temperament of the Green Tigers. It would take only one man with a flint in his gun to fire too soon to bring disaster upon them all.

  Fitz talked to his company, explaining what lay ahead and urging them to depend on the vicious silence of the bayonet. He could feel the tense awareness of his men, the controlled fear, the readiness to face death in the dark of night, rather than wait for poorer odds tomorrow. The march went on, eastward along Burlington Bay. It was nearly two o’clock in the warm, damp, silent night when the ghost-like column of moving men reached Stoney Creek. The enforced quiet had drawn nerves taut.

  In a diagram drawn later by FitzGibbon, the Americans are shown camped in Gage’s fields at the base of a six-metre hill, 500 of them to the left of the road leading to Gage’s house, 2,000 on the right. Their guns were on the brow of the hill, positioned in the road. Pickets were half a mile ahead, in the woods.

  The Americans manned their guns from a six-metre hill at the base of the escarpment.

  Enid Mallory.

  The first two sentries were silently made prisoners. The third resisted and was bayoneted. His cries alerted the men of the next picket at the entrance to the cleared field and one of them fired a shot. By then the first two companies of the column were upon the 500 men to the left of the road. Surprise was complete until, suddenly, the officers in the front began cheering. The soldiers took up the cry, the tension of their silent march broken, bid absolute bedlam resulted. FitzGibbon was furious:

  I was aware that it would be almost impossible to make the men silent again, and that consequently orders could not be heard or obeyed. I instantly turned to my men and charged them not to take up the shout then coming from the front, and by the assistance of my three sergeants, I succeeded in keeping them silent and in good order until a late stage of the affair, when firing on our side became general. Then, shouting, we rushed into the open ground occupied by the enemy and wheeled to the left.

  The Americans ran from their campfires to the hill behind. The 2,000 on the right of the road opened a tremendous fire upon the British soldiers who were “endeavouring to form in extreme darkness upon unknown and rough ground covered with rail fences, fallen trees and stumps.” Still worse, the British were caught in the light from the campfires while the Americans had gained the darkness on the hill.

  Our men never ceased shouting. No order could be heard. Everything was noise and confusion — which confusion was chiefly occasioned by the noise. Our men returned fire contrary to orders and it soon became apparent that it was impossible to prevent shouting and firing. The scene at this instant was awfully grand. The darkness of the morning, 2 o’clock, made still more dark by the flashing of the musketry and cannon. The officers could no longer control their men and they soon began to fall back.

  The Battle of Stoney Creek, as depicted by C.W. Jeffreys, shows the 49th Regiment charging the guns.

  Jefferys, Vol. 2, 161.

  Suddenly, Major Plenderleath of the 49th decided on charging the guns that were firing down the road upon them. With part of FitzGibbon’s company and a few other men, he rushed the guns and took all four of them. The two American generals, Chandler and Winder, were made prisoners, along with five field officers and captains, and 100 other prisoners. With the British at the top of the hill right in their centre, the Americans broke and fled — just in time, for the British were fleeing too. The total confusion and the terror of night fighting had almost finished them. Fitz said, “I am of the opinion that had not Major Plenderleath made the dash he did the Americans would have kept their ground and our ruin would have been inevitable.”

  Daylight comes early to Stoney Creek in June, and the daylight would have revealed to the Americans how few British soldiers actually made up the screaming, cheering hell that had come upon them in the night. Colonel Harvey prudently withdrew his men from the field in the last shreds of darkness.

  General Vincent was lost. Harvey sent William Hamilton Merritt to search for him among the dead and wounded strewn for three kilometres along the road and into the woods. Challenged by an American sentry near Gage’s house, Merritt almost became a prisoner. But his blue jacket and password let him pretend he was one of the Americans. By this ruse he took the American prisoner, then captured a second who came up. But he found no Vincent, either dead or alive. FitzGibbon, who rarely spoke well of Vincent, said,

  General Vincent with the whole left of the line retreated, or I may say fled into the woods, and not until noon next day did we know what was become of him. A flag of truce was sent to inquire if he was taken but the Americans knew nothing of him. Natives were sent
in search of him but without success. He at length found a road and joined us. Numbers of officers and men were lost for a time in the woods, so difficult is it to navigate these forests.[4]

  Two thousand more Americans had been landed by Chauncey’s ships on the lakeshore the evening before, and during the day they made their way to the now-deserted battlefield. They burnt whatever had not yet been carried off by the British, then they joined their main body falling back to Forty Mile Creek.

  This British firing line is re-enacting the Battle of Stoney Creek.

  Enid Mallory.

  By the 7th, the Natives had heard what happened and according to Merritt “they came on in droves.” The militia, who had been sent home by Vincent, swarmed out again to make prisoners of any Americans still lost in the woods. At six o’clock that night the Americans at Forty Mile Creek thought they saw Chauncey’s sails appear on the silver sheet of Lake Ontario. There was great rejoicing until they could make out the flags — then dismay. The ships were British! Sir James Yeo had set sail from Kingston on June 3, and was making his first public appearance before a large and unappreciative audience.

  Prevost had already led Yeo to attack Sackets Harbor while the American fleet was attacking Fort George, but nothing decisive had been accomplished there. Although he could not bring his ships close to the shore at Forty Mile Creek, he was sending his gunboats in with a sharp and well-directed fire against the batteries the Americans had set up. Meanwhile, the Natives had taken up a position on the escarpment behind the Americans to discomfit them even more.

  Billy Green’s brick house on the escarpment was built six years after the end of the war.

  Enid Mallory.

  On the 8th, Yeo sent in a note demanding the surrender of the American Army, and the Americans decided on a full retreat by land to Fort George. They tried to send some baggage and camp equipment by bateaux, but 17 of them were captured by a British schooner.

  When Lieutenant-Colonel Bisshopp’s advance party arrived, they found 500 tents still standing, 140 barrels of flour, 100 stand of arms, a considerable amount of other stores, and 70 prisoners. He did not say whether they found any shoes for the ragged British Army.

  Afterward, people on the Niagara Peninsula would tell how it took the Americans four days to make their way up to Stoney Creek, less than one day to run back.

  Chapter 7

  Green Tiger Guerrillas

  A wonderful change has taken place in our prospects since the nocturnal visit to the enemy’s encampment at Stoney Creek on the 6th. We begin to carry on our arrangements as usual. We are all well and in the highest spirits.

  — Major J.B. Glegg to William Jarvis, Forty Mile Creek, June 15, 1813[1]

  In spite of the general rejoicing (“a Royal Salute was fired in Kingston in celebration of the splendid achievement”), FitzGibbon was not satisfied. According to his granddaughter, he thought the British should have pursued the retreating Americans and recovered Fort George. Nor did the exploit at Stoney Creek meet with his approval.

  In a letter to the Reverend James Somerville in Montreal, Fitz wrote: “This affair is much praised and the Americans think it a brilliant one on our part, but for myself it is an evidence most convincing of the deficiency of our officers in general.” What infuriated Fitz was that the officers gave their position away by shouting before they had formed their line to attack.

  Never was surprise more complete — never was anything more brilliant than it would have been had we kept silence and not fired, but our officers began that which they should have watched with all their care to prevent; for they ought to have known that in darkness and noise confusion must be inevitable. I think I could have killed some of them had I been near them at the moment.[2]

  The towering monument at Stoney Creek was erected by the Wentworth Women’s Historical Society and unveiled by Queen Mary on June 6, 1913.

  Gord Mallory.

  FitzGibbon’s name is carved into one side of the Stoney Creek monument.

  Gord Mallory.

  Already, in his mind, Fitz was developing guerrilla tactics. Fighting in the woods of Canada called for stealth and cunning. He admired and emulated the Natives and militiamen, like Merritt, who knew the terrain and used that knowledge to outwit the Americans. Fitz felt a stronger bond to them than to his British superiors — he was fed up with procrastination and traditional methods of defence and attack. He desperately wanted to do something decisive.

  In his first major battle at Egmont-op-Zee in Holland, Fitz had concluded that the best place to be in any battle was out in front. That day he had watched a brother of Isaac Brock lead his men from one sand hill to another, always in front in the thick of enemy fire. “After witnessing Savery Brock’s conduct, I determined to be the first to advance every time at the head of those around me, and I soon saw that of those who were most prompt to follow me, fewer fell by the enemy’s fire than I witnessed falling of those more in our rear.”

  What if he had 50 men to command in advance, to use in the woods as he saw fit? He went to Lieutenant-Colonel Harvey with his idea. Harvey told him to be back within an hour with a detailed plan of operation, which Harvey would take to General Vincent. Vincent, probably persuaded by Harvey, approved.

  According to Fitz’s granddaughter, the whole 49th Regiment wanted to join FitzGibbon’s band. She quotes an old 49th man, who wrote in 1860, “We all wanted to go. We knew there would be good work, fighting and success wherever FitzGibbon led, for though impulsive he was prompt, and as brave as a lion. Through apparently foolhardy, every man in the regiment knew that he knew what he was about, and forgot nothing.”[3]

  Ensign Winder was Fitz’s first choice. The other 48 rank and file came from the different companies of the 49th. Each man was already a “Green Tiger” in the jargon of the army, although this nickname was most often used by Americans to describe their fear of the 49ers. In battle after battle “those damned Green Tigers” would charge them with bayonets or storm their guns. Usually in the front of any fight, they were often the irresistible force that broke and scattered the blue American line. With 50 hand-picked men organized into a fast-moving, horse-riding band of holy terrors, the name Green Tiger would take on a new menace and many an American would wish he had never crossed the Niagara frontier.

  Somewhere, FitzGibbon managed to get enough cloth to have 50 grey jackets made, as well as 50 red ones; the grey ones were camouflage (“Grey, being the nearest to the colour of the bark on the forest trees, is least discernible”). Sometimes he would use the jackets alternately to make it look like he had twice his numbers.

  He divided his men into three parties, each in the charge of a sergeant, and began moving them, not by main roads, but by Native paths and escarpment trails, into territory where American raiding parties were robbing the farmers, terrorizing their wives, and taking old men prisoners. Fitz’s assignment was to stop these assaults. He was also to collect information on the enemy’s movements and do everything in his power to annoy the American Army.

  Working with him was William Hamilton Merritt and his Provincial Dragoons. A group of them under Cornet McKenney were attached directly to FitzGibbon’s party. British soldier and militiaman alike were delighted to be pushing again toward Fort George.

  Lieutenant-Colonel Harvey, in a letter from Forty Mile Creek, June 11, 1813, explained Vincent’s plan for the Niagara frontier and expressed the general’s new admiration for the militia and yeomanry. (Harvey probably deserves credit for the better liaison and understanding between British officer and Niagara farmer.)

  The principal objects General Vincent has had in view in making a forward movement with the greatest part of the troops to this place are to communicate and give every support and assistance in his power to Sir James Yeo and the fleet and be at hand to take advantage of the success which we sanguinely anticipate from the approaching encounter with Commodore Chauncey, to give encouragement to the militia and yeomanry of the country, who are everywhere rising u
pon the fugitive Americans and making them prisoners, and withholding all supplies from them, and lastly (and perhaps chiefly) for the purpose of sparing the resources of the country in our rear and drawing the supplies of this army, as long as possible, from the country in the enemy’s vicinity. Our position here secures all these important objects, and so long as our fleet is triumphant it is a secure one. Should any disaster (which God forbid) befall that we have no longer any business here or in this part of Canada.[4]

  If Sir James Yeo could handle Chauncey on the water, the British Army, with men like Fitz and Merritt out in front, could pin the Americans inside Fort George. They might have to do it barefoot and half-clad, substituting a lot of spirit for a lack of supplies. On June 14, Vincent wrote to Colonel Baynes again about shoes, “I have to request shoes may be sent. We are more in want of them than any other article.” On June 18, Captain James P. Fulton wrote to Sir George Prevost that he found the troops in great distress for shirts, shoes, and stockings, with most of the 49th “literally naked.”

  The food situation was also becoming dire. On June 10, Vincent sent all women and children belonging to the corps in Upper Canada to Montreal by bateaux. No rations were to be issued to soldiers’ wives unless they were to serve as nurses. Sir James Yeo made a foray to the mouth of the Genesee River and captured all the provisions found in the government stores as well as a sloop laden with grain. This would help, but Vincent knew that all the rich resources of the Niagara Peninsula must be regained to keep his army fed.