All the King’s Men, page 30
The camps themselves were secure, but very cramped, officers even sleeping on the floor of huts, six or seven to a room. Cold and frequently hungry, the men had also to endure a long and tedious day of fatigue duties. It began at daybreak, with the drummers beating reveille through the principal streets of the camps, and ended at 8 p.m., when the evening drumbeat known as the tattoo* ordered everyone to quarters. In between, the soldiers were expected to carry out a variety of menial jobs: as part of a sanitary detail, burning or burying old meat, refuse or rubbish; loading and unloading provisions; collecting and transporting wood and other fuel; shovelling snow; and making fascines.
The least welcome chore was guard duty. In peacetime a soldier mounted guard every three or four days; in war, when it was necessary to guard against a surprise attack, much more frequently. After the main guard had paraded, detachments were sent to man posts at the military hospitals, magazines, prisons and commissaries. Others were assigned to protect the tents or quarters of senior officers, or to man the numerous sentry posts that barred entry to garrisons and camps. Only the most trusted soldiers were assigned to the provost guard, ‘whose regular police functions included the constraint of war prisoners, spies, and deserters, the control of camp disorders, the regulation of markets that formed in camps, the prevention of illegal sales of alcohol by unlicensed sutlers, and the execution of capital punishment’.1
But soldiers spent most of their time preparing for battle, and even veterans were expected to participate. There were three daily drill sessions, each of two hours. The first session was devoted to fitness, with all soldiers in America, even artillerymen, expected to be able to march up to 30 miles a day. A second drill period was spent practising the many complicated manoeuvres that made up both infantry and cavalry exercises. The third, known as parade exercise, put these various motions into practice at company and troop level. Such complicated movements by large numbers of troops required a high level of precision, and to achieve it the British Army concentrated first on marching. Using a stiff-kneed gait not unlike the Prussian goose-step, infantrymen would march at a steady 75 paces a minute, the time kept by fife and drum. Only in an emergency would this speed be increased to 120 paces a minute.
Once the requisite competence in marching had been reached, the troops were instructed in the tactical aspect of drill, such as how to wheel and how to change front. These were standard manoeuvres for all infantry, but others more suited to the American theatre of war were also taught to Howe’s men, and to those under Burgoyne’s command in Canada. At a review in Montreal, a lieutenant in the 29th Foot reported the men performing ‘common manoeuvres’ as well as ‘several new ones, calculated for defence in this woody country’.2 Once on campaign, in the broken country between Montreal and Saratoga, Burgoyne’s men travelled most of the way by water and became, according to another witness, ‘expert at rowing, having been ordered to practise frequently’.3
Because the process of loading and firing a musket was so laborious – there were no fewer than twenty-four separate motions, starting with opening the pan, removing the cartridge from a pouch worn at the waist, biting the top off the cartridge, pouring a little powder into the pan, shutting the pan, pulling the hammer back, etc., etc. – it was customary for British soldiers (and most other European armies, for that matter) to fire in volleys in the general direction of the enemy and not to aim at a specific target. But in America, where volley fire was far less effective, marksmanship was actively encouraged: even in bad weather regiments were encouraged to ‘get any places in their barracks or elsewhere under cover [where] young and inexpert soldiers may be there perfected in the manual [arms]’; regimental competitions were frequent and prizes given to the best marksmen.4
The bayonet, however, remained the generals’ weapon of choice. Before his Long Island campaign in August 1776, General Howe reminded his men of their proficiency with the weapon, ‘even in woods where [the rebels] thought themselves invincible’. Burgoyne made the same point to his officers when he warned them that any success in the Canadian wilderness ‘must greatly rest on the bayonet’, and that they were to ‘inculcate that idea into the minds of the men’.5
But battlefield performance in America was adversely affected by a number of factors, including long marches, exposure, hunger, thirst, lack of sleep and the weight of equipment. The musket alone – with ramrod and sling – weighed 16 lb. 7 oz.; the tin or wooden ammunition box, with cartridges, bayonet and scabbard, flints and cleaning materials, another 11 lb. 8 oz. On his back the soldier carried a pack topped by his greatcoat and blanket roll, a canteen, camp kettle, and a haversack filled with leather and tools for repairing shoes, a hatchet, and a three-day supply of beef and ship biscuit. Thus encumbered with more than 60 lb. of equipment, the soldier was, according to one veteran, ‘half-beaten before he came to the scratch’.6
On 30 November 1776, when all was going to plan, General Howe had outlined his latest strategy for ending the war in a letter to Lord George Germain. Assuming that the army from Canada would not reach Albany in the Hudson Valley until September 1777 at the earliest, Howe proposed starting the new campaign with offensives against Boston and Albany. Both forces would number 10,000 men, leaving 5,000 to cover New York and 8,000 in New Jersey. Having linked hands with the Canadian Army at Albany, he would turn his attention to Philadelphia and Virginia, and in the winter conquer South Carolina and Georgia. It was a hugely ambitious plan and one, Howe felt, that required an extra 15,000 troops to bring his ‘effective’ (rather than his nominal) strength up to 35,000. He also asked for eight more warships, a battalion of artillery, more officers and 300 horses. Only with such a force could he promise victory over the Continental Army of 50,000 that Congress had authorized for 1777.7
Germain, however, mindful of the escalating cost of war, was wary of sending more troops. So when Howe’s dispatch arrived on 30 December 1776, he deliberately confused the effective and nominal strength by telling the cabinet that 5,000 Germans and 3,000 recruits would ‘very nearly’ give the general the 35,000 men he had asked for.8 The Earl of Sandwich, first lord of the Admiralty (the equivalent to secretary of state for the navy), was no more forthcoming, informing Lord Howe on 6 January that he could not order any more ships to America until he had considered the effect this would have on the strength of the home fleet.9
But then came the shocking news of Trenton and Princeton, which reached London in mid-February, followed soon after by Howe’s revised plan for 1777. Now, thanks to reports of a loyalist groundswell in Pennsylvania, he intended to launch his first attack on Philadelphia. The assault on Boston would be postponed until he had enough troops simultaneously to invade Massachusetts and to leave a corps ‘to act defensively upon the lower Part of Hudson’s River to cover Jersey on that side, as well as to facilitate in some Degree the Approach of the army from Canada’. At first Howe was content to launch this new strategy before reinforcements had arrived. But, as the effect of Washington’s victories became clear – particularly the upsurge of support for the rebels in eastern New Jersey – Howe returned to his demand for at least 15,000 more troops, though 20,000 would be preferable. With such a force, he told Germain in a letter that reached London in early March, he would be able to advance on Pennsylvania by land and sea, and also leave enough troops at Rhode Island to make simultaneous attacks on New England. Germain was so determined not to ask Parliament for any more money for reinforcements – beyond the 8,000 that he had already promised – that he agreed to Howe’s new strategy to concentrate first on Philadelphia without ensuring that it was compatible with General Burgoyne’s separate plan for an advance down the Hudson from Canada. Of the six ships of the line that Lord Howe had asked for, only four had reached New York by late summer. The Howes, therefore, were given neither the strategic direction nor the reinforcements that they now felt they needed to have any chance of winning the war.
Instead, left largely to their own devices, they made two last attempts to reconcile the rebels. The first took the form of a letter to Congress from the captured General Charles Lee, who, at their instigation, was offering to meet delegates to discuss terms. But Congress knew that the Howes had nothing new to offer and promptly rejected Lee’s offer. The second attempt, however, was more successful. It took the form of a proclamation, issued on 15 March, that offered money, a pardon and security of property to anyone serving in the Continental Army who, by 1 May, had agreed to switch sides and join either a provincial corps or the British Army, or return home to England. By mid-April rebels were being recruited at the rate of forty a day.
Buoyed by this news, two successful raids on rebel stores in New York and Connecticut, and an improvement in the weather, General Howe at last opened his 1777 campaign in June. Part of the delay, which mystified many of his subordinates, was down to a lack of tents and stores; but the main reason was indecision. ‘It seemed that the memory of Trenton – Sir William’s sense of responsibility for that disaster – immobilized him’ and ‘kept him from taking the very measures which promised his vindication’.10
His first move in June was to advance his army in two columns west to Middlebush and Hillsborough, in the hope of tempting Washington to fight in New Jersey. But after two weeks of marching and counter-marching, and with nothing to show for his efforts bar a minor skirmish with the rebels’ advance guard, he embarked his men for Staten Island to prepare for the amphibious invasion of Pennsylvania.
It was during the hiatus on the island that Howe was reminded by Lieutenant-General Sir Henry Clinton – recently returned from Britain, where he had been knighted for his part in the capture of New York – that in the coming campaign Lord North’s government expected him to cooperate with Burgoyne, who was advancing down from Canada. Howe’s testy response was that he had already received the government’s sanction for him to capture Philadelphia. But would not such an expedition by sea, countered Clinton, enable Washington to concentrate his forces against either Burgoyne or New York? No, said Howe, he did not foresee such a danger. The furthest he would go was to concur with Clinton’s observation that Burgoyne would have to be supplied from New York once he had advanced beyond Albany. But as for doing anything about this – like opening the Hudson to British shipping, or reducing the rebel forts in the Highlands of the river – he was silent.
On 7 July, fully aware that London wanted him to join up with the Canadian army so that they could campaign together, Howe told Germain that he doubted such a junction could be made in 1777 because Burgoyne would ‘find full Employment for his Army against that of the Rebels opposed to him’. Clinton, meanwhile, would remain at New York ‘to be upon the Defensive with Power to act otherwise according to concurrent Circumstances, without losing sight of the principal object in the Security of this Place’.11
Howe had convinced himself that the loyalists in the Delaware Valley were waiting to greet him with open arms. In mid-July he received word from Burgoyne that the latter had captured Fort Ticonderoga, the rebel fort guarding the southern end of Lake Champlain, ‘that his army was in good health, and that Ticonderoga would be garrisoned from Canada, which would leave his force complete for further operations’.12 Even the news that Washington had responded by moving his army towards the Highlands of the Hudson was not enough to persuade Howe to postpone his Pennsylvania expedition. He did, however, promise Burgoyne that ‘if, contrary to my expectations’, Washington continued to move north, ‘I should soon be after him’;13 and he decided to go to Philadelphia via the Delaware, rather than the Chesapeake, so that he could remain as close as possible to the Hudson.
Of Howe’s senior officers, only Earl Cornwallis supported the Pennsylvania expedition. The juniors were, if anything, even less enthusiastic. Captain Duncan Drummond, aide to Clinton, feared that if Howe went to Philadelphia he would ruin his army and leave Burgoyne to be ‘cut up alive’; whereas if they joined forces along the Hudson, they would soon cut off New England from the other colonies and end the rebellion.14
But Howe would not be dissuaded and on 23 July, after yet more delays because of adverse weather, his fleet of 267 ships (carrying an army of 16,000 men) finally set sail. The plan now was to follow the Delaware to Philadelphia; it altered en route, however, after Howe had received intelligence that Washington was returning to the Delaware. Worried, too, that the rebels would use fire rafts, floating batteries and warships to oppose his landing – and ignoring the assurances of a Royal Navy captain that the transports could be safely unloaded below Philadelphia – he reverted to his original plan to sail further south for the Chesapeake. Informing Clinton of this change on 30 July, he suggested a diversion to help Burgoyne and promised reinforcements. None were ever sent.
Stalled by contrary winds, intermittent calms and uncharted waters, the huge fleet took a further three and a half weeks to reach its landing place at the head of the Chesapeake Bay, close to the Elk River. During that time, men and horses suffered terribly in the hot, airless compartments of the transports: 27 men and 170 horses died; a further 150 horses were destroyed on arrival, and so weakened was Howe’s only cavalry regiment, the 16th Light Dragoons, that it could barely muster two squadrons. And yet the news that greeted the seasick British redcoats, desperate to be off the ships, was encouraging. ‘Ticonderoga taken by Genl. Burgoyne, 6th July,’ recorded Lieutenant John Peebles (now of the 2nd Grenadiers) in his diary on 22 August, adding a day later that ‘there were no people in arms in this part of the country tho’ many ill affected.’ The disembarkation began on 25 August and was unopposed. Peebles wrote: ‘We landed about 9 o’clock a little above the ferry &marched about 3 miles up the west side of the river. The inhabitants almost all gone off &carried everything with them they could. A pretty country, and plentiful crops – the day exceedingly hot, &in the night a thunder gust with a great deal of rain. I believe the whole army are landed.’15
On 28 August, the advance guard of the army reached the small town of Head of Elk.* ‘The inhabitants fled before we reached Town,’ noted the recently promoted Sergeant Thomas Sullivan of the 49th, ‘leaving great quantities of stores in it, and on board several sloops that were in the river about a mile from the town; being informed or rather persuaded, that our Army would kill and destroy them and their families.’16 Lieutenant Peebles told a similar story: ‘Got to the Head of Elk (a pretty village) about 9, most of the inhabitants fled. Some of the Rebel troops had been there the night before, but went off in haste. General Washington had been there 2 days before, they say he has taken post with his Army about 9 or 10 miles from here towards the Delaware.’17
This was bittersweet news for Howe. All along the march to Head of Elk he had seen flourishing but empty farms, cattle and corn standing untended in the fields. Nowhere was there evidence of the strong loyalist sentiment he had been told to expect, and without it he knew that he would not have enough manpower to garrison his conquests: in short, his strategy of driving the rebels to the negotiating table by conquering America in stages was doomed to failure. But the intelligence that Washington was in the vicinity, and might well commit his army to a general action to save Philadelphia, gave Howe the option of reverting to his earlier strategy of destroying the rebellion in a single, decisive battle. He was eager to take it.
While at the Head of Elk, Howe replied to Germain’s latest dispatch (dated 18 May) that had approved his plans for invading Pennsylvania by sea, while urging him to cooperate with Burgoyne before the end of the campaign; it also made clear that the government expected him to end the rebellion in 1777 by using loyalists in lieu of reinforcements. Howe’s response was that he would not be able to link up with Burgoyne because the Continental Army, bolstered by the unexpectedly hostile colonists, would delay the reconquest of Pennsylvania for longer than he had anticipated; nor could he hope to end the rebellion that year without substantial reinforcements. Moreover, though he now knew that Washington was behind the Brandywine Creek on the road to Philadelphia, he told Germain that he doubted he could manoeuvre the Continental Army into a decisive engagement.18 Howe was, of course, hedging his bets; but there was now little doubt in his own mind that he would need to destroy Washington’s army at Brandywine Creek if he was to have any chance of ending the war.
Washington would give him that chance. Having reached Wilmington on Brandywine Creek on 25 August, the same day Howe’s army disembarked at the Elk River, the American commander quickly decided to stand and fight. With fewer troops than Howe – 14,000 to the British general’s 16,000 – he knew it was a fearful risk; but he also knew that if he abandoned Philadelphia, and forced the Continental Congress to flee, it would damage rebel morale and possibly cost him his job (not all congressmen approved of his hit-and-run tactics). An additional factor was the news that Major-General Horatio Gates had rebuffed an attempt by Burgoyne to capture the rebel supply depot of Bennington in the upper Hudson Valley, costing the British 900 men. Gates was a former British soldier who had served with the 20th Foot in the War of the Austrian Succession, and briefly under James Wolfe when the latter took command of the 20th in 1749. He had also fought in the Americas during the Seven Years War – acting as brigade major during the capture of Martinique – and later settled in Virginia after retiring from the British Army as a major in 1769. His experience of British staff work made him an obvious choice as the Continental Army’s first adjutant-general, and his success in this post had given him the opportunity to lobby for the Canadian Command. Certainly Washington felt threatened by Gates’s rising popularity, particularly after his success at Bennington, and was anxious for a victory of his own. He therefore ‘made a sacrifice of his own excellent judgment’, complained one of his young officers, ‘upon the altar of public opinion’.19
