THE FIGHT AT MONMOUTH
The next day--Sunday, the twenty-eighth of June, 1778--dawned with
cloudless sky, hot, sultry, the warmest day of the year. Not a breath of
air stirred the leaves, and in the tree branches above us birds sang
gleefully. Before daybreak we, who had been permitted to sleep for a few
hours, were aroused by the sentries, and, in the gray dawn, partook of a
meagre breakfast. A fresh supply of ammunition was brought up and
distributed among the men, and, before sunrise, we were in line, stripped
for a hot day's work, eagerly awaiting orders.
I can make no pretence at describing in any detail, or sequence, the
memorable action at Monmouth Court House, but must content myself with
depicting what little I saw upon the firing line of Maxwell's brigade. We
advanced slowly eastward over a gently rolling country, diversified by
small groves. In advance was a thin line of skirmishers, and to left and
right were Dickinson's and Wayne's men, their muskets gleaming in the
sunlight. Early the rumor crept about among us that Lee had come up
during the night with fresh troops, and assumed command.
Who led us was of but small consequence, however, as there was now no
doubt in any mind but what battle was inevitable. Already to the south
echoed a sound of firing where Morgan had uncovered a column of Dragoons.
Then a courier from Dickinson dashed along our rear seeking Lee,
scattering broadcast the welcome news that Knyphausen and his Hessians,
the van of the British movement, were approaching. With a cheer of
anticipation, the soldiers flung aside every article possible to discard,
and pressed recklessly forward. Before we moved a mile my horse became so
lame, I was obliged to dismount, and proceed on foot. Never have I
experienced a hotter sun, or more sultry air. It was as though we were
within a furnace; men struggled for breath, not a few dropped exhausted,
the others straggling grimly forward, their faces streaked with dust and
perspiration, their saturated clothing clinging to their bodies. Under
these conditions rapid marching was impossible, yet by nine o'clock we
had passed the Freehold Meeting House, and were halted in the protection
of a considerable wood, the men dropping to the ground in the grateful
shadow. Maxwell came along back of our line, his horse walking slowly, as
the general mopped his streaming red face. He failed to recognize me
among the others until I stepped out into the boiling sun, and spoke:
"What is that firing to the right, General? Are the Jersey militia in
action?"
He drew up his horse with a jerk.
"That you, Lawrence? Can't tell anybody in this shirt-sleeved brigade.
What's become of your horse?"
"Gave out yesterday, sir. Have been on foot ever since. Is it going to be
a fight?"
The grip of his hand tightened on the saddle pommel, his eyes following
the irregular line of exhausted men.
"Yes, when Washington gets up; you need never doubt that. We'd be at it
now, but for Charles Lee. I'd like well to know what has come over that
man of late--the old spirit seems to have left him. Aye! it's Dickinson
and Morgan out yonder, wasting good powder and ball on a handful of
Dragoons. Wayne has been ordered forward, and then back, until he is too
mad to swear, and I am but little better. By the Eternal! you should have
heard Lafayette, when he begged permission to send us in. 'Sir,' said
Lee, 'you do not know British soldiers; we cannot stand against them; we
shall certainly be driven back at first, and must be cautious.' Returned
the Frenchman: 'It may be so, General; but British soldiers have been
beaten, and may be again; at any rate I am disposed to make the trial.'"
"'T is not like General Lee," I broke in. "He has ever been a reckless
fighter. Has the man lost his wits?"
Maxwell leaned over, so his words should not carry beyond my ear.
"'T is envy of Washington, to my mind," he said soberly. "He has opposed
every plan in council, imagining, no doubt, a failure of campaign may
make him the commander-in-chief. There comes a courier now."
The fellow was so streaked with dust as to be scarcely recognizable, and
he wiped the perspiration from his eyes to stare into our faces.
"General Maxwell?"
"Yes; what is it?"
"Compliments of General Lee, sir, and you will retire your troops toward
the Freehold Meeting House, forming connection there with General Scott."
"Retreat! Good God, man! we haven't fired a shot."
"Those were the orders, sir. Is that Scott, over yonder?"
Maxwell nodded, too angered for words. Then, as the courier galloped
away, turned in his saddle.
"By Heaven! I suppose we must do it, Lawrence. But what folly! What
asininity! We've got the Red-coats hemmed in, and did you ever see a
better field? Pray God, I may hear Washington when he comes up. I'd
rather be dead then, than Charles Lee."
We gave the orders, and the men fell back sullenly, swearing fiercely as
they caught the rebellious spirit of their officers. Never have I
suffered more than from the heat that poured down on us from that blazing
sun; the gun barrels burned to the touch, and the tortures of thirst
became terrible. In places we sank ankle deep in the hot sand, and beyond
this came upon a broad morass almost impossible of passage. Men fell
exhausted, and were dragged out by their comrades. Scarcely able to
breathe in the hot, stagnant air, caked with foul mud to the waist, we
attained the higher ground, and dropped helpless. Even from here the
enemy were invisible, although we could see the smoke of their guns, and
hear distant crackle of musketry. I sat up, staring through the heat
waves toward the eminence on the left where Wayne's men remained, showing
dimly against the trees. A group of horsemen were riding down the slope,
heading toward our line. As they came into the sandy plain below, and
skirted the morass, I recognized Lee in advance, mounted on a black horse
flecked with foam. Twice he paused, gazing across the hills through
levelled field-glasses, and then rode up the steep ascent to our rear.
Maxwell met him not twenty feet from where I lay.
"What does this mean, sir?" Lee thundered hoarsely. "Why are your men
lying strewn about in this unsoldierly manner, General Maxwell? Are you
unaware, sir, that we are in the presence of the enemy?"
Maxwell's red face fairly blazed, as he straightened in the saddle, but
before his lips could form an answer, a sudden cheer burst out from the
crest of the hill, and I saw men leaping to their feet, and waving their
hats. The next instant across the summit came Washington, a dozen
officers clattering behind, his face stern-set and white, as he rode
straight toward Lee.
"What is the meaning of this retreat, General Lee? My God, sir, how do
you account for such disorder and confusion?" he exclaimed, his voice
ringing above the uproar, his angry eyes blazing into Lee's face. "Answer
me."
The other muttered some reply I failed to catch.
"That is not true," returned Washington, every word stinging like a whip.
"It was merely a covering party which attacked you. Why did you accept
command, sir, unless you intended to fight?"
"I did not deem it prudent, General Washington, to bring on a general
engagement."
"You were to obey my orders, sir, and you know what they were. See! They
are coming now!"
He wheeled his horse about, pointing with one hand across the valley.
"Major Cain, have Oswald bring up his guns at once; Lieutenant McNeill,
ride to Ramsey and Stewart; have their troops on the ridge within ten
minutes--General Maxwell, these are your men?"
"They are, sir."
"Hold this line at any cost, the reserves will be up presently."
As he drew his horse about he again came face to face with Lee, who sat
his saddle sullenly, his gaze on the ground. Washington looked at him a
moment, evidently not knowing what to say. Then he asked quietly:
"Will you retain command on this height, or not, sir?"
"It is equal to me where I command."
"Then I expect you will take proper means for checking the enemy."
"I shall not be the first to leave the ground; your orders shall be
obeyed."
What followed was but a medley of sight and sound. I saw Washington ride
to the left; heard Lee give a hurried order, or two; then I was at the
rear of our own line strengthening it for assault. There was little
enough time left.
Under the smoke of several batteries, whose shells were ripping open the
side of the hill, the British were advancing in double line, the sun
gleaming on their bayonets, and revealing the uniforms of different
corps.
"Steady men! Steady!" voice after voice caught up the command. "Hold your
fire!"
"Wait until they reach that fallen tree!" I added.
Every man of us had a gun, officers, all. Coatless as though we came from
the haying field, the perspiration streaming down our faces, we waited.
The rifle barrels glowed brown in the sun, as the keen eyes took careful
sight. We were but a handful, a single thin line; if the reserves failed
we would be driven back by mere force of numbers, yet before we went that
slope should be strewn with dead. Crashing up from the rear came Oswald
with two guns, wheeling into position, the depressed muzzles spouting
destruction. Yet those red and blue lines came on; great openings were
ploughed through them, but the living mass closed up. They were at the
fallen tree, beyond, when we poured our volleys into their very faces. We
saw them waver as that storm of lead struck; the centre seemed to give
way, leaving behind a ridge of motionless bodies; then it surged forward
again, led by a waving flag, urged on by gesticulating officers.
"The cavalry! The cavalry!"
They were coming around the end of the morass, charging full tilt upon
the right of our line. I saw that end crumble up, and, a moment later,
scarcely realizing what had occurred, we were racing backward, firing as
we ran, and stumbling over dead bodies.
Maxwell rallied us beyond the causeway, swearing manfully as he drove us
into position behind a low stone wall. Again and again they charged us,
the artillery fire shattering the wall into fragments. Twice we came to
bayonets and clubbed guns, battling hand to hand, and Wayne was forced so
far back upon the left, that we were driven into the edge of the wood for
protection. But there we held, our front a blaze of fire. It seemed to me
the horror of that struggle would never end. Such heat, such thirst, the
black powder smoke in our nostrils, the dead under foot, the cries of the
wounded, the incessant roar of the guns. Again and again it was hand to
hand; I could scarcely tell who faced us, so fierce the _mêlée_, so
suffocating the smoke; I caught glimpses of British Grenadiers, of
Hessians, of Queen's Rangers. Once I thought I heard Grant's nasal voice
amid the infernal uproar. Stewart and Ramsey came to our support; Oswald
got his guns upon an eminence, opening a deadly fire; Livingston's
regiment charged, and, with a cheer, we leaped forward also, mad with the
battle fever, and flung them back, back down that deadly slope. It was
not in flesh and blood to stand; we cut the centre like a wedge, and
drove them pell-mell to where Lee had been in the morning. Here they
rallied, flanked by thick woods and morasses. Too exhausted to follow,
our men sank breathless to the ground.
It was already sunset, and our work done. The artillery still already,
and I could see long lines of troops--Poor's and the Carolina
brigade--moving to the right. Night came on, however, without more
fighting, and, as soon as we had recovered sufficiently, we devoted
ourselves to the care of the wounded.