Germantown and the Roads to Valley Forge Read online

  Wayne's brash temperament and combative demeanor were well known, but his vanity and mercurial disposition were often overbearing, making him popular with some officers and hated by others. The morning after the battle, the intrepid Pennsylvanian notified Washington of the attack by a letter in which he minimized his losses and lathered gratuitous praise on every one of his subordinate officers, including Richard Humpton. Later, after being confronted, Wayne labeled Humpton “the prosecutor” and attempted to place the blame for the disaster on his second-in-command's failure to follow orders.

  Humpton, a native of Yorkshire, England, and a former British Army captain, served well through the entire war and was recognized by Washington as a steady, dependable officer. Before Trenton, he was assigned the critical and difficult task of gathering all the boats within a sixty-mile stretch on the New Jersey side of the Delaware River. His work enabled Washington's forces to escape to Pennsylvania and prevented Lord Cornwallis from crossing the river. In 1777, Humpton was colonel of the 11th Pennsylvania Regiment and took command of the 2nd Pennsylvania Brigade when Wayne, a brigadier general in command of the 1st Pennsylvania Brigade, was placed in charge of Lincoln's Division. The forty-four-year-old colonel was now temporarily serving as a brigade commander under a thirty-two-year-old hotspur, who evidently did not favor the company or advice of an older, more experienced, and less volatile veteran of professional service. Anthony Wayne also had a habit of playing favorites, and Humpton was apparently “out of the loop.”

  At Paoli, “so ungaurded was our Camp, that they were amongst us before we Either formed in any Manner for our Safety, or Attempted to Retreat—Notwithstanding the General had Intiligence of their Designs Two Hours before they Came out,” Maj. Samuel Hay of the 7th Pennsylvania told his commander, Col. William Irvine, who was a prisoner of war on parole. Of the attack, Hay wrote that “the Annals of the Age Cannot Produce such another Scene of Butchery” and described the massacre of his regiment, which was caught at the rear of the column. “The Enemy Rushed on with fixed Baynots and Made the use of them they Intended, so you May figure to your self what followd,” he told Irvine.109

  The rebels were “evidently Intending to Attack from Woods & Skulkery places, Our Rear,” a British officer explained to a friend, remarking, “the Carnage was Amazing & terrible—I confess it is most shocking to think that such Extremities are unavoidable in the prosecution of War.” Though horrified, he quickly added, “but think what Baneful Consequences must have ensued to Us, had it not have been put into Execution, as They (knowing we were to March that morning) were getting under Arms for the purpose of assassinating Our Army, at the time Genl. Gray reach'd them, & so unexpectedly frustrated their Cowardly Diabolical Intentions.” The attack had its benefits: “The Enemy were so terrified and disconcerted by this Maneuver that they flew on all Sides, suffering us to Ford the Schulkill Unopposed.”110

  Major Hay wrote, “The party lost 300 Privates in Killed wounded and Missing, Besides Commissioned & non Commissioned Officers.” This included the regiment's field commander, Lt. Col. David Grier, who was “wounded in the Side by a Baynot Superficily Slanting towards the Back Bone.” With nearly sixty casualties, the 7th Pennsylvania lost about one-quarter of its available strength that night, “half the men fit for duty,” according to Major Hay. Furious over the losses, some of “the Officers of the Division have Protested against Genl. Waynes Conduct and lodged a Complaint and Requested a Court of Enquiry which his Excellency has Promised they shall have,” Hay wrote on September 29, adding with some satisfaction, “this has Brought down his Pride a little already.”111

  Wayne wasn't the only general with subordinates nipping at his heels. Due to seniority, Brig. Gen. William Maxwell of New Jersey, “Scotch Willie” as he was nicknamed, had been given command of the Corps of Light Infantry at the end of August. “It is now recalld,” Lt. Col. Will Heth of Virginia gleefully reported to Col. Daniel Morgan on September 30, adding that Maxwell “was found unfit for such a command…He has some-how or another acquird a Character, which by no means fits him.” Heth had been unenthusiastic about Maxwell's appointment from the beginning, calling him “an old-woman” and “a Damnd bitch of a General” in the same letter. Now, after a month of defeats, Heth told Morgan, “I petiond to be recalld, and have this day deliverd His Excellency, such charges for Misconduct, and unofficer-like behaviour, as must undoubtedly reduce him.”112

  Jealousies among the officers, politically as well as personally, were rife; the bickering and backbiting seemed endless. Lack of confidence in Maxwell was a problem with the “chosen men” of the Continental Line, the regulars who made up the bulk of the Corps of Light Infantry, many of whom returned to their regiments after Brandywine and had to be ordered back to Maxwell by Washington.113

  Lack of discipline, especially with the militia attached to the Corps, was another major problem. In the General Orders issued on September 26, Washington wrote, “The base and wicked practice of plundering the inhabitants, being still continued, (notwithstanding all former orders) and in some cases, in the most atrocious manner; the Commander in Chief requires, that the General Orders of the 4th instant, relative thereto”—the tirade that Washington had unleashed on September 4, when the army was at Wilmington—“be solemnly read without delay, by the commanding officer of each regiment to his men. The punishment announced in those orders, will certainly be inflicted on the offenders.”114 Despite this, few were punished, and mindless or deliberate destruction of local property continued unabated.

  Dunlap's “Partizan” Regiment of Pennsylvania Militia riflemen, which was attached to Maxwell's Light Infantry, was encamped at Trappe after the British crossed the Schuylkill. Rev. Henry Muhlenberg had an encounter with them that illustrated all too well the state of war between some of the military and the civilian population. On September 25, Anthony Wayne and Lord Stirling had breakfast with Reverend Muhlenberg, the father of Gen. Peter Muhlenberg. Two days later, after Wayne's and Stirling's forces moved on, Muhlenberg wrote in his journal,

  I was to bury a deacons child at Augustus Church. When I arrived there I discovered to my sorrow that a regiment of the Pennsylvania militia had taken possession of Augustus Church, schoolhouse, etc. The church was crowded with officers and privates with their guns. The organ loft was filled, and one man was playing the organ while others sang to his accompaniment. Down below lay straw and manure, and several had placed the objects of their gluttony, etc. on the altar. In short, I saw, in miniature, the abomination of desolation in the temple. I entered but did not deem it advisable to speak to the mob because they at once began to jeer and several officers called up to the organ-player, “Play a Hessian march,” etc. I sought out Colonel [James] Dunlap and inquired if this was the protection of religious and civil liberty which had been promised. He excused himself by declaring that the militia is made up of all sorts of nationalities and cannot be kept in proper discipline, etc. The schoolmaster complained with tears that his needed vegetables and the little buckwheat which he had sowed and which had just ripened had been trampled under foot and stolen; also that he and his lame wife had not been permitted to sleep in their own bed for several nights, nor had they been allowed to approach their hearth…I had myself had three acres of my lot near the church sowed in buckwheat, which was in fine bloom and gave promise of providing needed food for the winter, but the soldiers placed some twenty horses and heads of cattle in the field and let them eat and trample it all down. If one objects with the merest word, one is told, “You are a Tory! Your house and home must be burned!” And those on the other side say, “You are rebels,” etc.

  “Under the circumstances I could not take part in the funeral or speak a word of edification in the church,” Muhlenberg wrote. “The sight of the church, etc. made me wretched.”115 Something had to be done to protect the local people.

  The Continental Army was waiting for reinforcements. Brig. Gen. Alexander McDougall and his brigade of four Connecticut regiments ha
d marched down from the Hudson Highlands and joined Washington's army in late September, adding nearly a thousand more men to the rosters. Gen. David Forman with the New Jersey Militia was on the way, too, but only with about 600 men, not the 1,500 hoped for, and Wayne and Smallwood had rejoined the main army with about 2,500, nearly 1,300 fewer than anticipated.

  Smallwood's Maryland Militia was in serious disarray. Untrained, badly armed and poorly supplied from the outset, their panic and stampede at Paoli when fired upon by a few British stragglers was a complete embarrassment to Smallwood, who was nearly killed by friendly fire along with his second-in-command, Col. Mordecai Gist. More than one thousand militiamen deserted out of the 2,100 in the Maryland force that night, abandoning their baggage wagons and three artillery pieces. “I hope the Governor will exercise his authority by Imprisonment or otherwise of these Miscreants,” a furious Colonel Gist wrote to a friend in Baltimore shortly after the debacle, “while the Brave and Virtuous continue with fortitude to encounter the hardships of war until an Opportunity may offer to return the reflection and disgrace thrown upon the State of Maryland by their unmanly behaviour.”116

  Among “the Brave and Virtuous” of the Maryland Militia was Capt. James Cox, the tailor in command of the Baltimore Mechanical Company. He wrote regularly to his wife Mary, who remained in Baltimore with their five young children, three boys and two girls, ranging in age from ten to two. Communication was sporadic and uncertain; how many letters were lost and how many ever made it through was anybody's guess.

  The company left Baltimore in early September to join General Smallwood near the mouth of the Susquehanna River. At that time, the British fleet was slowly moving back down the Chesapeake on its way to the Delaware River. Alarmed, Mary Cox wrote to her husband on September 8 as Lord Howe's ships hovered nearby:

  My Dear,

  …I am greatly alarmed at the usage the inhabitants meet with that fall into the regulars’ hands. I greatly want your advice in regard to moving my things before trouble comes, for then there will be such confusion that I may only escape with my life; for it is allowed [believed] by all, that the enemy will visit us before they leave our bay. Don't laugh at my fears, for they are not groundless, as you well know I am a person of great fortitude; but fortitude without reason is mere chimera, therefore do let me have your advice as soon as possible…. 117

  Captain Cox was promoted to major on September 19 by Gov. Thomas Johnson, but his commission was not received for a few weeks due to the chaos of the invasion and movement of the army.118 On that day, the Marylanders were at McClellan's Tavern in Chester County, sixty miles from Baltimore, and marching with difficulty toward Wayne's force. Three days later, after Paoli, Cox's unit moved twenty-five miles with Smallwood and Wayne to Jones's Tavern in Berks County, then another twenty-five miles to Trappe in Philadelphia County, and ten miles farther to join the main army at Skippack in late September.

  The army continued to move gradually closer to Philadelphia; and by October 3, it was on Methacton Hill in Worcester Township and vicinity, with headquarters in Peter Wentz's house. From that camp, Cox was able to sit down and write his wife this extraordinary letter:

  To Mrs Mary Cox, Baltimore

  Head quarters 20 miles from Philadelphia Octbr. 3rd. 1777

  Dear Wife,

  this Serves to inform you that We are Still in the Land of the Living and thank god all hearty and well. We are still advancing Down towards the Enemie and Expect very soon to be foul of Each other which I hope may prove to our advantage. our army is Still Inerveating—the militia are Still Coming in from Difrent quarters. we underwent a good Deal of Fateague in our Difrent marches till we Joyn'd General Washington, Since which we have been Regular and Clever and hope to Continue So.

  I have had the pleasure of Receaving Several Letters from you which Inform'd me you had a bad Cold but wass got better: and wass glad to hear all the rest wass well and hope you may all Continue so till I return which I trust will be at the Expiration of our time, till which may Heaven protect us all without which we Can Doe nothing—I have nothing of Newes Perticular to write. I Imagine you have much more with you than we have here. Capt. Garretson of Standford have Joyn'd us & Capt. Stevenson and Expect Soon to See the Rest of our Batalion. the Independant Company is likewise arriv'd. Willm. Hannah has Joyn'd us and Brought my velvet briches and I am much obleajed to you for my worsted Stockings. I now Conclude With my Love to you and all friends

  So Remain your Loving Husband,

  James Cox119

  The two armies were about “to be foul of each other” sooner than James Cox let on. With the losses of several hundred dead at Brandywine and Paoli, thousands sick and wounded, Philadelphia in British hands, and Congress now on the wing across the Susquehanna to York, September of 1777 had been an extremely difficult month for the American cause. The good news of the Northern Army's victory at the Battle of Stillwater in New York on September 19 was something to cheer about, and the main army celebrated at Pennypacker's Mills on September 28 with artillery salutes and extra rations of rum. But the inevitable comparisons of generals and accomplishments began.

  With his army hobbled by a lack of shoes and basic supplies after weeks of hard campaigning; faced with criticism from many quarters and demands for inquiries about several generals from their subordinates and Congress and, in one case, from the general himself—compounded with the backbiting among officers and continuous problems with plundering and basic discipline in the ranks; the American Fabius chose a new course of action that surprised his enemy and astonished nearly everyone.

  He would attack the British Army.

  CHAPTER 2

  “A devil of a fire upon our front & flank came ding dong about us.”

  THE BATTLE OF GERMANTOWN, OCTOBER 4, 1777

  My Voice is still for War.

  Gods, can a Roman Senate long debate

  Which of the two to choose, Slav'ry or Death!

  No, let us rise at once, gird on our Swords,

  And at the Head of our remaining Troops,

  Attack the Foe, break through the thick Array

  Of his throng'd Legions, and charge home upon him.

  Rouse up for Shame! Our Brothers of Pharsalia

  Point at their Wounds, and cry aloud—To Battle!

  Great Pompey's Shade complains that we are slow,

  And Scipio's Ghost walks unreveng'd amongst us!

  —Joseph Addison, Cato, act II, scene I

  He had not launched a major attack on the main British Army with the main American Army before. Prior to this, Washington had played defense with mixed results, mostly disastrous. The British had left Boston in early 1776 through attrition, but had seized New York and won all the major battles there later that year, taking the Continental forces apart bit by bit and nearly winning the war.

  Trenton had been a successful surprise attack on an unprepared Hessian outpost, not the main army, and Princeton had taken out Cornwallis's rearguard, but both victories were only enough to stem the tide of defeat. Howe's indolence had done the rest by allowing Washington the time to rebuild his army and rally the war effort.

  During the June maneuvers, Sir William had gone on a false offensive, and Washington's cautious attempt at pursuit nearly ended in a trap at Short Hills, New Jersey. In early September, at Iron Hill and Cooch's Bridge in Delaware, Hessian and British light troops attacked and drove off Maxwell's Corps of Light Infantry. Despite Anthony Wayne's urging to take the offensive, Washington dug in his heels and entrenched at Red Clay Creek, only to have Howe sidestep him and enter Pennsylvania.

  The American Fabius was on the defensive again at Brandywine. “He had in an involv'd Rhapsody spirited up his men to a belief they were to exterminate the British Army,” Capt. John André wrote home to England. “I believe they never had been wound up to such a pitch of confidence.”1 Had he taken the opportunity to attack von Knyphausen at Chads's Ford, Washington may well have won the battle. But faulty intelligence
made him hesitate, and he was outmaneuvered yet again and outgeneraled, suffering a major defeat, and ultimately the loss of the capital.

  Paoli drove home a hard-learned lesson of successful offense with light troops and bayonets. Howe's outmaneuvering of Washington yet again at the Schuylkill fords and his march across Fatland Ford without a fight reinforced the idea among some that the American forces were incapable of success, no matter the opportunities. “Genl. Howe Yesterday Morning crossed the Schuylkill within two Miles of the left Flank of our Army without Opposition,” General Smallwood told Governor Johnson on September 24. “It's said an Opposition was not intended,” the Marylander wrote incredulously. “Strange Infatuation: they seem to have nothing to do but push forward and of course we run away.” Disgusted with the whole string of failures over the previous few weeks, he told the governor, “It's to be lamented that human Nature is subject to so much Degeneracy but I will drop the subject; I can't think of it with patience.”2

  “If the rebels had the least spirit or resolution they might have defended this pass,” sneered Captain Downman of the Royal Artillery about the easy Schuylkill crossing. “Not that they would have prevented our getting over,” he cynically added, “but they might have killed us a number of men.” In the main, though, after two campaigns, “The rebels fly before us; they run whenever we advance,” Downman noted with contempt, as did other British and Hessian officers. “They say we are mad or drunk or we would never dash in among them as we do,” as happened at Paoli. “Our light infantry are the finest set of fellows in the world for this mode of fighting.”3

  General Grey's aide, Capt. John André, was even more poignant. “Moving & pushing distracts & demolishes these people,” he wrote from Germantown on September 28. “When we lay still, their treacherous engines go to work; they get intelligence, they harass us & retrieve their losses.” He also noted that at that moment, “Washington is taking breath about 26 miles from us.”4