STRATEGY AND WOODCRAFT
The year 1758 was the most eventful in Putnam's life hitherto,
notwithstanding the numerous adventures in which he had already been
engaged, and which were enough to satisfy the craving of the most
ambitious individual. The great event of that year, in which he took
part, was the attack made by General Abercrombie on Fort Ticonderoga;
and the most dire happening, to him personally, was being made a
prisoner by the Indians.
Before proceeding to narrate these occurrences, however, let us take
notice of two stirring incidents in his career, which further illustrate
his cool daring and his readiness of resource in the face of danger. In
the first instance, he was sent by his superior officer to a place
known as Wood Creek, in order to make such observations as were
possible, and also to intercept any parties of the enemy that might
chance to pass that way. With the intuition of a born strategist, he
posted his force on the bank of the creek where it jutted boldly into
the water, and there constructed a parapet of stone about thirty feet in
length, and masked it with young pine-trees in such a manner that they
appeared to be a part of the natural forest growth.
The provisions of the party running short, and a big buck opportunely
appearing, Putnam departed from a rule he himself had always insisted
upon--of never firing a gun when waiting for an enemy or in the enemy's
country, and shot him. The result was as he might have anticipated. He
and his men got the deer and replenished their stores; but the wily
leader of the Indian hostiles, Marin, heard the report, and came with
his men in search of the cause of it. He came at night, so cautiously
and silently that some of the canoes which held his men, about five
hundred in number, were abreast the fort before the sentinels
discovered them.
The creek at this point was scarcely a hundred feet in width, the banks
about fifteen or twenty feet in height. A full moon was shining in the
heavens, illumining spaces of water here and there, so that the oncoming
Indians were plainly visible to the men behind the parapet, there
awaiting, with fast-beating hearts, the signal to fire. At a critical
moment, one of the nervous soldiers accidentally struck his firelock
against a stone, and the sound being heard by the foe, in an instant
came the watchword for silence and caution--"Owish." The canoes in the
van halted, and the others coming up, they were soon huddled together
right in front of the breastwork. This was the moment awaited by Putnam,
who gave the signal for his men to fire by setting the example with his
own musket.
The plunging fire, directed into the midst of the canoes, committed
terrible execution. It was returned by the enemy; but being caught at a
disadvantage, and unable to perceive their foes, concealed as they were
behind the breastwork, their fire was ineffective. During the whole
engagement, which is said to have lasted through the greater part of the
night, only two of the Provincials were wounded, none being killed
outright.
There were but sixty men in Putnam's party, while the Indians were
estimated at not less than five hundred, half of which number were
either killed or wounded, it was thought, before daylight came.
Perceiving, from the intermittent fire, that it was a small party which
had ambuscaded him, Marin, the Indian scout and leader, attempted a
landing below the Americans, in order to cut off their retreat. But
Major Putnam had anticipated that move, and after sending a detachment
to repel the landing party, ordered his men to "swing their packs" and
retire up the creek, which they did in good order, leaving their wounded
men behind. This act was the one inexplicable occurrence of the affair,
for it was not creditable to Major Putnam, nor in accord with his
reputation for humanity and tender regard for his men. But the safety of
the greater number was considered, in preference to the security of the
two wounded men, one of whom, a Provincial of undaunted courage, was set
upon and hacked to pieces, after he had killed three of the approaching
enemy, as he lay on the ground unable to escape. The other, a friendly
Mohawk, was taken prisoner, and Major Putnam afterward saw him in
Canada.
On the way back to Fort Edward, Putnam and his men were fired upon by a
scouting party of Provincials, who mistook them for Frenchmen; but they
were quickly undeceived when the doughty major ordered his men, "in a
stentorophonick tone," to advance and give a good account of themselves.
Putnam's "stentorophonick" voice--as his original biographer styles
it--was well known to all the army, having been heard many times rising
above the din of battle, and always in the forefront of the fighting. So
the commanding officer of the scouting party recognized it at once and
cried out that those approaching were friends. The volley had killed one
man only, and "Old Wolf Putnam," enraged, indignant, and yet sarcastic,
said to the opposing officer, "Friends or enemies, you all deserve to be
hanged for not killing more, when you had so fair a shot!" He had in
mind, of course, the numbers he and his men had slain, that night
preceding, when six or seven times their own force had fallen before
their unerring aim.
Having suffered so considerably at Putnam's hands, the French and
Indians, as may be imagined, were constantly on the watch to take their
arch enemy at a disadvantage. Not many weeks after the unsuccessful
attack upon Ticonderoga--to which allusion will presently be made--it
appeared as though the savages were about to accomplish their purpose,
for they surprised him, together with a small body of his men, on the
left bank of the Hudson, with the river between them and the fort. The
party of Indians was too strong to be successfully resisted, it was
impossible to cross the river without being shot, while below lay a
quarter-mile stretch of rapids through which a boat had never been sent
without disaster. But, with his customary promptitude, Putnam ordered
his men into their single boat, himself taking the helm, and pushed off
just as the savages came within sight of the shore. The disappointed and
infuriated Indians sent a shower of balls after the boatmen, but none
took effect; though the fugitives seemed doomed to certain death by
drowning in the foaming rapids of the river. Calmly taking the helm,
Putnam steered the boat through the roaring rapids, avoiding the
half-hidden rocks and protruding ledges, and, while the Indians looked
on in amazement, in a few seconds brought his charge into smooth water
at the foot of the falls. Throughout all this turmoil and danger, he
maintained his self-possession, his customary placidity of countenance
even; and it is said that after that the Indians looked upon him as more
than human and under the special protection of the Great Spirit.
It was the misfortune of the Provincials to become the sport of fate in
the shape of inefficient commanders from England, who led them, not only
to defeat, but to death by wholesale, in their endeavors to carry out
plans insufficiently matured and schemes which would not have received
the sanction of military experts at all. One of the most disastrous of
defeats was encountered at Ticonderoga, against which General
Abercrombie led a force of fifteen thousand men, consisting of six
thousand regulars and nine thousand Provincials. Crown Point and
Ticonderoga were still the British objectives, along with other posts of
greater or less strength, such as Louisburg, Frontenac, and Fort
Duquesne. All these last were taken before Crown Point and Ticonderoga
yielded; but it was fated that Ticonderoga, which had been seized and
fortified by the French in 1755, and which, together with Crown Point,
commanded the direct route from the St. Lawrence to the Hudson, should
first cost the lives of many men.
On the morning of July 5, 1758, a magnificent flotilla set forth from
the southern end of Lake George, consisting of 135 whale-boats and 900
bateaux, laden with soldiers, cannon, and military stores of every
description. As it sailed through the Narrows it made a line six miles
in length, and was indeed a most imposing spectacle. Sabbath-Day Point
was reached about five in the afternoon, and here the soldiers debarked
for rest and refreshment, but sailed on again about midnight, reaching
the northern end of the lake next morning at dawn. Soon after landing,
late in the day, a portion of the army became lost in the forest and
while entangled in the wilderness of trees encountered a French force of
observation which had been sent to watch their movements at Lake
George. This force, likewise lost in the woods, was cut to pieces by the
Rangers, only fifty escaping, while nearly three hundred were either
killed, wounded, or taken prisoners.
This was the sole success of the expedition, and this cost the lives of
many men, including young Lord Howe, who was a great favorite in the
army with both regulars and Colonials. He had insisted on forging ahead
with Putnam, who, as usual, was in front with his Rangers, and against
his urgent remonstrances went with him into the vortex of the fire,
where he was killed. The soldiers considered their success on the first
day as a foretaste of victory to follow on the morrow; but while
Abercrombie delayed his advance for various reasons, Montcalm and his
men did herculean work by felling a forest of trees and constructing an
impenetrable abatis in front of the fort.
It was this terrible entanglement, composed of thousands of trees with
pointed and jagged limbs turned outward, that really prevented the
British and Provincials from gaining even the outer works of
Ticonderoga, behind which lay not more than thirty-six hundred men under
Montcalm. Abercrombie's engineer having reported that the works were
unfinished, and might be easily captured if promptly attacked, the
British general gave the order for assault, though his cannon had not
arrived, and indeed were not used at all.
Not satisfied with one futile assault, in which his men were cut down by
hundreds, torn by grape-shot and mangled by cross-fires of musketry,
Abercrombie ordered another and another, until the heroic and desperate
fighting men were entirely exhausted. Never was there a greater display
of courage and senseless devotion to a mistaken sense of duty, than on
that day when the fifteen thousand British and Provincial soldiers tried
vainly to dislodge one-third their number of Frenchmen from their
position at Ticonderoga. And it was all on account of the incapacity of
a British commander, whom the home Government had sent out with
authority, not only over his own regulars, but Colonial officers whose
abilities were vastly in excess of his own. But it was not for these
Colonials to question; only to "do and die," and they did all in their
power, and died by hundreds, merely that an incompetent commander's
whims should be gratified.
When at last the inept Abercrombie had sacrificed the lives under his
command to the number of two thousand or more, and became convinced that
he could not take Ticonderoga that way, he was seized with panic and
ordered a retreat. As the Rangers under Putnam were the first in the
assault, so they were the last to retire, being obliged to protect the
retreat of the main army, and remained till dusk on the edge of the
forest, where they maintained a continuous fire, to prevent pursuit.
With but one-third as many soldiers as Abercrombie brought to the
attack, Montcalm did not feel like pursuing the retreating foe, but
contented himself with the great victory--a victory won not so much by
the valor of his men as by the incompetency of his chief opponent.
Had the advice of Putnam, Rogers, and others of the Provincials been
sought and accepted, much of this loss of life might have been averted,
for though themselves fighting with great courage, doggedly and against
all hope, they were averse to a direct assault without the cannon, with
which a breach might have been opened into the fort. But the cannon
reposed at the lake-side, whither retreated the defeated soldiers, with
such haste that they were enabled to embark that very night, leaving
their dead and many of their wounded in the forest where they lay. A few
days before, after the first engagement, Major Rogers, of the Rangers,
having been sent to bring off the dead and wounded of the enemy, had
cruelly despatched the latter, to the horror not only of his confrère,
Major Putnam, but of the British officers who became cognizant of the
fact.