IN WHICH BEGINS A MEMORABLE BATTLE
As the spring months wore on, bringing sunshine and warmth instead of
snow and ice, the situation at Valley Forge changed decidedly for the
better. The shadows of the winter were fading before the hopes of
freedom promised by the fresh campaign soon to be opened. Most of the
sick had recovered, and the troops fit for active service numbered about
fifteen thousand. They had much to cheer them, and the greatest source
of gratification was the good news from France. For, early in February,
Benjamin Franklin had negotiated a treaty with that nation, news of
which reached the United States in the following May, and was promptly
ratified by Congress. And, to further encourage the struggling people,
it was learned that a French fleet, commanded by Count d'Estaing, had
already sailed for Philadelphia.
Meanwhile, on the 11th of May, Lord Howe had been superseded in command
of the British army by Sir Henry Clinton, and it was generally believed
that the latter had been ordered by the ministry to evacuate
Philadelphia.
But that much-desired event was long delayed. The enemy spent weeks in
slothful preparation, and the middle of June found the boats of the
fleet all collected and moored below the town--which was taken as a
pretty sure sign that the flight would be by water. At almost any day
the French armament might be expected to sail up the Delaware.
But, in spite of this danger of a blockade, the British still lingered,
to the satisfaction of Tory citizens and the disgust of all good
patriots. And at Valley Forge, Washington was patiently watching and
waiting, with his orders written out, his baggage ready to be packed at
a moment's notice, and his troops in condition to form in line of march
at the first beat of the drum.
It was past midday of the 17th of June, 1778, when the long-expected
word came at last to the American camp. It was in the form of a private
dispatch, the tenor of which was not at once communicated to the army.
But a conference took place between Washington and his staff, as a
result of which a trusty officer named Captain McLane left Valley Forge
that evening under secret orders. He was suitably disguised and well
mounted.
The night was far advanced when Captain McLane entered Philadelphia,
unchallenged by a single sentry as he rode along.
He found the town in a ferment of excitement and joy. At nine o'clock
the long-expected evacuation of the British army had begun. Down to the
Delaware the troops marched quietly, regiment by regiment, and embarked
in small boats. But instead of boarding the big vessels at anchor, they
crossed the river and disembarked on the Jersey shore. The retreat was
to be by land, and not by water.
Captain McLane found means of crossing with the enemy, and all night
long, while the boats flitted from shore to shore, the brave man went
here and there unsuspected. He followed the lead of the column five
miles into the Jersies, to Haddonfield, ascertained General Clinton's
intended line of march, and then retraced his steps past the long train
of baggage, provisions, carriages, and saddle-horses that brought up the
rear of the retreating army.
He safely reached the city early on the morning of the 18th--while the
evacuation was still in progress--and before ten o'clock he was back at
the camp with the electrifying news. Two hours after the last of the
British had departed, Washington's dragoons were riding through the
streets of Philadelphia, and a small detachment under General Arnold
occupied the town.
Before night the whole of the patriot army was in motion toward the
Delaware, and the huts at Valley Forge, consecrated by the winter's
heroic sufferings and fortitude, were left to solitude and decay. The
line of march was in the direction of Trenton, it being the intention of
Washington to press closely on the rear of the enemy, and of the
thousands of American soldiers who longed for a decisive battle, none
desired it more ardently than Nathan Stanbury and his father.
General Clinton led the British army northeast through the Jersies, his
object being to reach the Raritan River and there embark his troops. But
the sandy roads and oppressively hot weather made marching tedious and
slow, and, as there was but a single road, his train of baggage-wagons,
horses and men made a line nearly twelve miles in extent. In addition,
he had to build bridges and causeways over the streams and marshes.
Meanwhile the American army was moving swiftly, and had crossed the
Delaware near Trenton in several divisions. On the 25th of June,
learning that Washington was almost on his front, Clinton concluded to
change his course rather than risk a general action with his numerous
encumbrances. So, turning to the right, he followed the road leading to
Monmouth Court-house and Sandy Hook, intending now to embark his troops
at the latter place instead of on the Raritan.
As yet Washington was himself disinclined to risk a battle, and was
merely trying to harass the enemy on their march. The advance American
forces--certain corps and brigades under Maxwell, Morgan, Scott,
Dickinson, and Cadwallader--had been ordered to annoy the British on the
rear and flanks. On June 25th, when Clinton turned toward Monmouth
Court-house, the Americans reached a place called Kingston. Here another
council was held, and though General Lee, as before, was strongly
opposed to any interference with the movements of the enemy, Lafayette,
Green, and Wayne declared in favor of a general battle. Washington was
of the same mind, and so he promptly proceeded to make his arrangements
to that effect. He sent a thousand men forward under General Wayne to
join the troops nearest the enemy, gave Lafayette the command of all the
advanced forces, and himself moved with the main body to Cranberry on
the 28th of June.
Early on the morning of the 27th, Lafayette reached Englishtown, a
village about five miles to the west of Monmouth Court-house. The
British general, being advised of the movements of the Americans,
prepared for battle at Monmouth, where he had now arrived. He placed his
baggage train in front and his best troops--the grenadiers, light
infantry, and chasseurs--in the rear. Then he encamped near the
Court-house, in a strong position that was secured by woods and marshy
ground. His line stretched a mile and a half on the right toward
Shrewsbury, and three miles on the left in the direction of Allentown.
Washington heard of this, and found it necessary to increase the numbers
of his advance corps. He sent Lee with two brigades to join Lafayette,
and gave him the command of the whole division. The main army marched
the same day to within three miles of Englishtown. Morgan was now
hovering on the British right, and a force of militia under Dickinson
was menacing their left. Three miles beyond Monmouth were the heights
of Middletown, which offered a great advantage to the enemy. To prevent
them from obtaining that advantage, Washington determined to attack
their rear the moment they should attempt to move, and he gave General
Lee orders to that effect. Sir Henry Clinton, finding a battle to be
inevitable, was no less busy, and the night of the 27th was one of
anxiety to both armies.
The 28th of June, 1778, was Sunday. The sun rose out of a cloudless sky,
and not a breath of air was stirring. It was the hottest and sultriest
day of the year. The Americans were all eager for the fight, and hopeful
of striking a decisive blow at the enemies of their country. The force
to which Nathan and the Wyoming men belonged were with the main army
back near Englishtown, and this was a disappointment to the lad, since
he feared that he would miss the battle. But his anxiety was needless,
as after events proved.
Before dawn the regiment of Colonel Grayson and the brigades of Scott
and Varnum were in the saddle and moving toward Monmouth Court-house.
General Knyphausen, with a British force that comprised Hessians
and Pennsylvania and Maryland Tories, advanced at daybreak, followed
later by Sir Henry Clinton with his main army. Dickinson, observing
the earlier movement, sent an express in haste to Lee and the
commander-in-chief. Washington at once put his army in motion,
and sent orders to General Lee to attack the enemy unless there
should be a strong reason to the contrary.
So Lee pressed forward, supported by Dickinson, Grayson, and the
brigades of Wayne and Maxwell. He crossed the morass by a causeway near
the parsonage, and on reaching a height was joined by Lafayette with the
main body of the advanced corps. Here conflicting intelligence was
received, some messengers asserting that the enemy were in full retreat,
while others reported that the whole British army was filing off to the
right to attack the Americans.
Satisfied that no important bodies of foes were on either of his flanks,
Lee marched on with about five thousand troops through a broken and
heavily-wooded country, and came to the verge of the plain of Monmouth.
Seeing a column of the British about two thousand strong on the left,
and taking them to be a covering party, he determined to try to cut them
off from the main army. So he sent Wayne with artillery and seven
hundred men to attack them in the rear, while he himself sought to gain
their front by a short cut.
It was now nine o'clock in the morning. Wayne was about to descend on
the enemy when a body of the Queen's Dragoons appeared on the edge of a
wood, parading as though about to make an attack. Lee, seeing this,
planned and partly carried out a clever ruse. He ordered his light horse
to entice the dragoons as near as possible, and then retreat to Wayne's
position. The dragoons, following the light horse as was expected, were
met with a hot musketry fire from an ambush party under Colonel Butler,
of Wayne's command. Then they wheeled about and galloped off toward the
main column. Wayne ordered Colonel Oswald to open two pieces of
artillery upon them, and he himself made a bayonet charge forward with
his whole force.
The battle now seemed about to begin in earnest, for Wayne and his
command were fighting with vigor, and with good prospect of success. He
was therefore greatly chagrined and irritated when Lee ordered him to
make only a feigned attack, lest he (Lee) should fail in his plan to cut
off the covering party. But Wayne was a true soldier. He obeyed without
questioning and checked his troops, hoping that Lee would recover what
his untimely order had lost. But here again Wayne was disappointed, for
only a small portion of Lee's troops issued from the wood on the right,
and these were actually within cannon-shot of the royal forces.
About this time Sir Henry Clinton discovered that the Americans were
marching in force on both his flanks, and with the hope of drawing them
off by making an urgent necessity for them elsewhere, he faced his army
around and prepared to attack Wayne. This move was made, and soon a
large body of cavalry were seen approaching. Lafayette discovered this,
and it suggested so good a plan to him that he rode straightway and in
haste to Lee.
"General," he cried, "have I your permission to gain the rear of these
cavalry who are marching against us? I am satisfied that I can do so,
and thus cut them off."
"Sir, you do not know British soldiers," replied Lee. "We cannot stand
against them. We shall be driven back at first, and we must be
cautious."
"Perhaps you are right, General," declared Lafayette. "But British
soldiers have been beaten before this, and they are not invincible. At
all events, I wish to make this attempt."
Lee partly consented, ordering Lafayette to wheel his column by the
right, and gain and attack the cavalry's left. Next he unaccountably
weakened Wayne's detachment on the left by sending three regiments to
the right, and then rode toward Oswald's battery to reconnoiter.
At this moment, to his great astonishment, as he afterward declared, Lee
saw a large portion of the British army marching on the Middletown road
toward the Court-house. Apparently confused, he immediately ordered his
right to fall back, and gave other commands that virtually amounted to a
retreat. Lafayette was instructed to fall back to the Court-house, and
Generals Maxwell and Scott, who were about to form for action on the
plain, were sent to the woods in their rear.
A general and disastrous retreat had now begun, and one for which there
was no excuse, since Lee might have made an effective stand in his
advantageous position. The Americans were pursued as far as the
Court-house, where the British temporarily halted and opened fire with
several batteries. The routed army pressed on across the morass,
suffering terribly from heat, thirst, and fatigue, and sinking
ankle-deep in the loose and sandy soil. They reached the broken heights
of Freehold, and paused here for a brief rest. But soon the British
forces came on, and Lee resumed his retreat toward the Freehold
meeting-house. The demoralized troops fled in great confusion, many
perishing in the mud and water of the swamps, and others, dropping over
with the heat, being trampled to death by those behind. It was a black
commencement to the battle of Monmouth.
Meanwhile Washington had been pressing forward in haste, and with his
right wing commanded by General Greene, and the left wing in charge of
himself, he had reached the vicinity of the Freehold meeting-house and
Monmouth Court-house. Just at that time arrived a farmer on a fleet
horse, announcing that Lee and his forces were in full retreat, with the
enemy in close pursuit. Washington at once rode forward with his staff,
passing and checking the flying columns of troops, until he met Lee near
the rear.
"Sir," he cried, in tones of bitter anger, "I desire to know whence
arises this disorder and confusion, and what is the reason."
Lee was a high-spirited man, and being stung more by the manner than
the words of his commander, he retorted harshly. A few sharp words
passed between the two, but there was no time for full explanations,
since the advancing enemy were within fifteen minutes' march.