Prelude to Glory, Vol. 2

by Ron Carter

  “Do you have an elevation on it?”

  “Not in feet, sir. It is just identified as the highest hill in this neighborhood.”

  Howe studied Chatterton Hill once more, and then with the eye of one whose life had been spent gaining priceless wisdom in the brutal cauldron of battles, both won and lost, he gauged distances and directions, and once again turned to his aide, pointing. “If we take that incline just across the river, then move straight north around Washington’s right flank, the cannon on that second hill—Chatterton Hill—can reach us easily. Is that correct?”

  “That is correct, sir.”

  Howe sat for a time, studying the breastworks dead ahead, trying to work himself inside Washington’s mind. He turned once more to his aide. “What’s behind Washington?”

  “Sir, our report says he has prepared more breastworks about three or four miles back, at North Castle. With the Croton River right there, those fortifications are very good. It is our guess he will fall back to them if things do not go well where he is.”

  “How much of his army did he bring with him?”

  “Fourteen thousand five hundred, sir. He left fifteen hundred men at Fort Washington under Colonel Magaw, and three thousand five hundred at Fort Lee under General Nathanael Greene. The rest are here.”

  Howe pursed his mouth and dropped his eyes for a time in deep thought.

  He has superior numbers and good fortifications on the high ground, and he’s ready to fall back to strong positions if he has to. He’s inviting me into a decisive battle, with most of the advantages in his favor.

  He shook his head and pushed his thoughts to a conclusion.

  He wants another Bunker Hill—us walking through White Plains onto the open ground in front of his breastworks while his long rifles and muskets cut us down, and he brings his forces from the incline and Chatterton Hill in behind to trap us. What will he do if we take both the incline and Chatterton Hill away from him first?

  He turned to his aide. “Get General Leslie and the Hessian officers.”

  Five minutes later Leslie reined in his horse, with the Hessian colonels von Donop and Rall following on their nervous horses, wisps of steam rising from their heated hides and clouds of vapor trailing from their flared nostrils. Facing Howe, they stopped and waited.

  Howe spoke with expressionless authority. “General Leslie, take your brigade along with the commands of Colonel von Donop and Colonel Rall across the Bronx River and up the incline. Take it and go on past and take the next hill—Chatterton Hill. We will give you cover with cannon. Any questions?”

  One hour later, behind the breastworks in the center of the American fortifications, Billy and Eli flinched and instinctively ducked at the thundering sound of fifty cannon blasting out a volley nearly one mile distant. They braced for the shock of cannonballs ripping into the breastworks, counted three, then looked at each other in puzzled silence before they cautiously raised their eyes above the breastworks to peer south in the morning sun.

  In the haze, past the clumped trees of White Plains, a cloud of white smoke hung in the still air above the frosted ground. Ten seconds later a second cloud of white smoke erupted, and then the roar of the second volley rolled past the American lines, and Billy and Eli watched the cannonballs blow dirt and rocks just below the rim of the incline west of the Bronx River.

  Billy raised a hand to wipe at his dripping nose. “They’re not coming here. They’re going after the rim on the river.”

  “And that second hill behind it,” Eli added.

  The Americans behind the breastworks stood bolt upright, entranced at the deadly drama unfolding before their eyes. Dots appeared on the east shore of the Bronx River and they became boats filled with red or blue specks as the British and Hessians pushed off into the open water to make the crossing. From the rim of the hill opposite, American rifles and muskets began their deadly work, and then in the center of the American defenses, Captain Alexander Hamilton barked orders to two American cannon crews. They depressed the muzzles of their three-pound cannon downward, point-blank at the river, blocked up the rear of the cannon carriage, and cut loose on the boats coming straight at them. The first volley raised waterspouts thirty feet high among the boats. The second volley blasted holes through the bottoms of two boats, but the British doggedly kept coming.

  The first wave of British and Hessians hit the American side of the river and started up the incline, clawing their way. At the top of the ridge, Americans leaped over their own breastworks and stood at the rim, firing downward at men less than ninety feet away. The red-coated bodies fell backwards, sliding, tumbling down the steep incline, and those below let them fall past as they kept their faces upward and climbed.

  Across the river the British cannoneers rammed bar shot and chain shot down the muzzles of their guns and set up a continuous barrage, holding their gun muzzles high enough to clear their own forces on the face of the incline. Americans staggered back and went down, while others came leaping over the breastworks to replace them. With grim determination the British and Hessians refused to break, to retreat as they doggedly clawed their way up the hill into the guns above.

  Then an American turned and shouted something, and leaped from the rim, plunging downhill, and one followed him, and then another, and then hundreds as they slammed into the enemy below in a wild hand-to-hand fight, swinging their muskets or a rock or anything they had as they tore into the British and Hessians with their battle cry echoing up the river to the Americans at the White Plains breastworks.

  And the British and Hessians broke! Those in the lead turned and slid downhill into those beneath, and they became a red and blue avalanche that hit the riverbank and spilled into the dark winter waters.

  Billy and Eli and a thousand Americans did not realize they had leaped atop their own fortifications with their fists clenched above their heads, shouting their own battle cry as they watched the Americans clear the face of the incline and then turn to scramble back to the top while the British cannon blasted at them.

  For long moments the cannon fell silent. Hope leaped in the hearts of the Americans that the British were withdrawing, and then the long line of redcoats started up the steep incline once more. Again they clawed up, fifty feet, seventy feet, and again the Americans leaped over the rim, down among them, face-to-face, clubbing, grappling, kicking, and once again the British were swept off the incline.

  The Americans stood on the White Plains breastworks silent, wide-eyed, with one desperate question, one great hope. Will they try again? Let it be over.

  Suddenly Billy’s arm jerked up, pointing, and he shouted, “To the left! Look left! They’re climbing up!” as though the Americans nearly a mile away, on the rim, could hear him.

  While the red-coated British had held the Americans directly on the face of the incline, Colonel Johann Rall had led his Hessians farther south, and while the Americans had swept the British back, Rall and his blue-coated troops had surged up nearly to the top of the rim before the Americans saw them.

  Flanked, with the howling Hessians coming in behind them, the Americans broke. They fell back, west and north, unable to stop and load as the Hessians came with their muskets banging and their bayonets lowered. Behind them, Colonel von Donop led his Hessian command towards Chatterton Hill at a run, and up the hill without stopping. The Americans at the top realized that with the British forces now able to bring their cannon to the top of the incline to the east, the Chatterton Hill defense would be rubble within twenty-four hours. They fell back in full retreat to join the main American forces with George Washington at the White Plains fortifications. They met General Israel Putnam leading his command to reinforce them, but too late, too late. The battle had already been lost.

  With the broken and retreating defenders streaming into his main camp, Washington sat alone in his tent, staring at his hands clasped on the table before him. He raised them to dig at weary eyes.

  He refused the bait and sprung the trap. I�
�ve lost the advantage. We will have to move back to our lines at North Castle and hope he comes after us.

  Reluctantly he assembled his officers.

  “Prepare your commands and wait for my orders to move back to North Castle.”

  He saw the blank look creep into their eyes, and sensed the thinly veiled anger, the frustration seething in them as they silently stood and walked back out into the cold sunlight. One hour later Washington rose and fastened his cape about his shoulders and walked out among his troops, watching, listening. He saw the sullen, narrowed eyes glancing at him, and was aware of the silence that fell as he passed. He returned to his tent and slumped onto his chair and he leaned forward on his elbows, face buried in his hands.

  South one mile, the setting sun shined through barren tree branches to cast delicate designs on the ground as the picket at the flap of Howe’s command tent entered.

  “Sir, you have a messenger.”

  Howe rose. “Send him in.”

  A stocky sergeant entered and saluted. “From General Percy.”

  Howe unfolded the document and read. “Thank you. There will be no return message. Dismissed.”

  Howe sat down at his table and read the message again, slowly, then leaned back in thought.

  He’s preparing to fall back to North Castle. All right, so be it. We’ll follow to be sure he’s set there, and then we withdraw back to Manhattan Island. When he discovers we intend to take Fort Washington and Fort Lee, he’ll come quick enough, and I will pick the time, and the place, for the battle. He will fight me on my terms, not his.

  It was full dark when Howe gathered his generals to his tent.

  “Washington is going to retreat to North Castle soon. We’ll follow only long enough to be certain he’s established there, and then we leave for Manhattan Island. We will take Fort Washington and Fort Lee, and if he follows, we will fight him at the time and the place we choose.”

  Clinton shook his head. “Finish him right now. We beat him today, and we can beat him at North Castle. We’ve cornered him twice and let him go. That’s enough. Go after him right now.”

  Howe slowly shook his head. “We will have one-half the casualties if we make him come to us and fight on our terms. I won’t trade good British troops for a few days’ time. We wait and make him come to us.”

  Six days later, at North Castle, with dawn breaking, General Washington raised his head from his breakfast of bitter coffee and fried corn mush and faced his picket, who had thrust his head inside the command tent.

  “Sir, you have a messenger.”

  Washington read the message, then read it once more. “Thank you. There will be no reply. Dismissed.”

  He tossed the message onto the tabletop and leaned back in his chair. Half an hour passed before he summoned his officers.

  “General Howe left in the night, moving his army south and west. I believe he is going to attack Fort Washington and Fort Lee. If he succeeds, I think he intends moving west through New Jersey to take Philadelphia. I am convinced he wants to take our Continental Congress.”

  The officers moved, but said nothing.

  “General Lee, you will remain here at North Castle with five thousand men until I send you written orders. General Heath, you will take three thousand and hold them at Peekskill until I call for them. I will gather two thousand and go to Manhattan Island to repulse Howe.”

  He watched his officers rise and file out of his tent, and he watched as they walked away, heads down, without looking back. He returned to his table and picked up his empty coffee cup, with the cold dregs in the bottom, and he stared at them for a long time.

  ______

  Notes

  The fortifications of the Americans and the location of the British troops in the area of White Plains, New York, including Chatterton Hill, are well identified in Carrington, Battles of the American Revolution, maps section, p. 19.

  On October 12, 1776, the British passed through Hell Gate and landed troops at Throg’s Neck but failed to move onto the mainland in the face of American resistance, then moved on to land at Pell’s Point six days later. Thence they moved to New Rochelle and stopped for several days (see Higginbotham, The War of American Independence, p. 160; Johnston, The Campaign of 1776, part 1, pp. 265–71).

  General Charles Lee advised Washington to make his demands of the Continental Congress and threaten to resign if they failed to meet them (see Leckie, George Washington’s War, p. 283). General Lee was probably the best and most completely trained military mind in the American forces, albeit his training was by the British army, from which he defected prior to the beginning of the Revolution to take up residence in the colonies (see Leckie, George Washington’s War, pp. 116–17).

  General Nathanael Greene was given command of Fort Lee with 3,500 troops; Colonel Robert Magaw was given command of Fort Washington with 1,500 men (see Leckie, George Washington’s War, p. 284).

  General Washington called on Colonel John Glover and three of the Massachusetts regiments under his command to stop the British during the American retreat to White Plains. Colonel Glover did it by using a series of stone walls in open fields (see Higginbotham, The War of American Independence, p. 161; Johnston, The Campaign of 1776, part 1, p. 271).

  General Washington had prepared defensive fortifications at North Castle in the curve of the Croton River, about four miles north of White Plains, in the event of a defeat at White Plains. When the British forces captured Chatterton Hill, Washington retreated to the North Castle position (see Leckie, George Washington’s War, p. 287; Johnston, The Campaign of 1776, part 1, p. 276).

  The battle at Chatterton Hill became known as the Battle of White Plains. Again, the Americans lost and had to retreat to North Castle. Thereupon Howe decided to wait long enough to be assured Washington was not moving, and then march back to take Fort Washington and Fort Lee, thence on to take Philadelphia, where the Continental Congress was then sitting. Alexander Hamilton, later to become aide-de-camp to General Washington, commanded cannon in this battle (see Johnston, The Campaign of 1776, part 1, pp. 274, 276; Leckie, George Washington’s War, pp. 285, 287; Carrington, Battles of the American Revolution, p. 243).

  General Washington ordered General Lee to remain at North Castle with five thousand men, and General Heath to remain at Peekskill with three thousand men, while Washington took the remainder of the army back to Fort Washington (see Higginbotham, The War of American Independence, p. 162).

  Fort Washington, Manhattan Island

  November 15, 1776

  Chapter XXIV

  * * *

  In bright, cold mid-November afternoon sunlight, Captain Zachariah Blaisdell stopped on the parapet of the east wall of Fort Washington and raised a hand to shade his eyes. Suddenly he dropped his hand, spun, and leaped to the ground, sprinting to find Colonel Robert Magaw, commanding officer.

  He found him at the powder magazine and pulled up, gasping for breath. “Colonel, there’s a British officer approaching the main gates under a white flag. What are your orders?”

  Colonel Robert Magaw studied his aide for a moment. “Let him enter.”

  “Blindfolded?”

  “No. I’ll receive him in my quarters.”

  The pickets swung the huge gates open, and Blaisdell passed through to march ten yards ahead and stop, waiting for the British officer and his aide to approach.

  Inside the fort, Colonel Magaw glanced about the fort for a moment, wondering if he should have had the messenger and his aide blindfolded. The interior was jammed with nearly double the number of soldiers for which it was designed, with sick and wounded visible outside the hospital, and supplies and munitions stacked out in the open.

  It makes no difference. They know what we have inside.

  He strode to his quarters, straightened his uniform, and sat down at his desk, puzzled at what a British officer intended doing under a white flag. He flinched at the sudden rap at his door. “Enter.”

  Blaisdell entered. “Sir
, Adjutant General Paterson of His Majesty’s army has a sealed message for you.”

  “Bring him in.”

  A moment later Paterson and his aide were inside, at rigid attention, facing Magaw.

  “Sir,” Paterson said, “it is my honor to deliver this message to you.”

  “Would you care to be seated?”

  “No, thank you, sir. It is not intended that we remain for any length of time.”

  “What’s the message?”

  “An offer, sir. A generous offer.”

  Magaw received the message, broke the wax seal, and read it carefully.

  Every consideration will be extended to yourself and your command at Fort Washington, including pardon, should you accept this offer to surrender immediately. Should the offer not be acceptable, we regretfully advise that the entire garrison will be put to the sword at once.

  Magaw read the letter once again with a growing anger at the threat of a massacre, and then he spoke. “I presume you know the contents of this message.”

  “I do, sir.”

  “Howe intends putting this entire command to the sword?”

  “I am aware that is what he said.”

  Magaw pursed his mouth for a moment. “I’ll need some time—maybe six hours—to consider this.”

  “I deeply regret, sir, that I must have your answer within the hour. I am under orders to wait for it.”

  Seething, barely maintaining control, Magaw left Paterson standing while he sat down at his table and for a time worked with quill and paper. He dusted the finished message, read it once, then stood and handed it to Paterson. It was neither sealed nor folded.

  Paterson looked at Magaw for an explanation.

  “Go ahead and read it,” Magaw said.

  15 November, 1776

  Sir: If I rightly understand the purport of your message from General Howe communicated to Colonel Swoope, this post is to be immediately surrendered or the garrison put to the sword. I rather think it a mistake than a settled resolution in General Howe to act a part so unworthy of himself and the British Nation. But give me leave to assure his Excellency that actuated by the most glorious cause that mankind ever fought in, I am determined to defend this post to the last extremity.