The Battle of Long Island was one of our largest engagements with the British, and it was also the first one after the Declaration of Independence.
And it was a rout; the Americans got their heads handed to them. The British took New York and they occupied it for the rest of the war. After so many smaller victories, we finally got the lessons that A) this was going to be a long and bloody war, and B) there really isn’t any such thing as an easy victory.
As a result, New York City became a focal point for espionage and intelligence-gathering. If you’ve ever seen the AMC series Turn: Washington’s Spies, you’ll get an idea of some of the things that went on. (The series as a whole isn’t bad, but there are definitely instances of dramatic license that went on. For instance, you can’t row across the Long Island Sound and back overnight. In fact, I’m not sure you can row across the Sound safely at all.)
In tomorrow’s episode, Mike will tell you why it didn’t turn out worse for the American side and then we close out the week with the last chapter of the Battle of Long Island.
At this point, both George Washington and General William Howe know that they’re literally on the eve of battle, and they’re making their final preparations.
The British, along with the Hessians, were making plans to move along the Jamaica Pass (it’s the road just above the Acroasis logo in today’s art), which, while they didn’t know it, was relatively lightly guarded by the Continental Army.
Washington’s tactic was to hold on to the Heights of Guan (the ovals to the right of the episode title, representing hills) and fortify Brooklyn Heights (far left center, about where the Brooklyn Bridge is today). It wasn’t a bad idea, but it didn’t match the British plans. And that’s largely where things went wrong. We’ll be talking about that in greater detail tomorrow.
The day after the British landed on Long Island, George Washington was disheartened to learn that army provisioning wasn’t at the level he’d expected, despite his orders only a week earlier.
It was bad enough that he’d been caught a little flatfooted by both the magnitude and the direction of the British movement, now he discovers that troops he’d ordered to move had done so without proper provisions.
So, he took the time to create new orders regarding army provisioning and ensure that the General Commissary had the manpower to do what it needed to do. He also took the time to write an inspirational note to the troops, which we couldn’t do in a two-minute show, but which read thus:
The Enemy have now landed on Long Island, and the hour is fast approaching, on which the Honor and Success of this army, and the safety of our bleeding Country depend. Remember officers and Soldiers, that you are Freemen, fighting for the blessings of Liberty—that slavery will be your portion, and that of your posterity, if you do not acquit yourselves like men: Remember how your Courage and Spirit have been dispised, and traduced by your cruel invaders; though they have found by dear experience at Boston, Charlestown and other places, what a few brave men contending in their own land, and in the best of causes can do, against base hirelings and mercenaries—Be cool, but determined; do not fire at a distance, but wait for orders from your officers—It is the General’s express orders that if any man attempt to skulk, lay down, or retreat without Orders he be instantly shot down as an example, he hopes no such Scoundrel will be found in this army; but on the contrary, every one for himself resolving to conquer, or die, and trusting to the smiles of heaven upon so just a cause, will behave with Bravery and Resolution: Those who are distinguished for their Gallantry, and good Conduct, may depend upon being honorably noticed, and suitably rewarded: And if this Army will but emulate, and imitate their brave Countrymen, in other parts of America, he has no doubt they will, by a glorious Victory, save their Country, and acquire to themselves immortal Honor.
Yes, I said that cowardice “will not be tolerated” in the episode; clearly I under-sold that one.
It’s been coming for at least two months, and the Battle of Long Island has finally begun.
As we’ve noted a few times the past couple of days, George Washington had to make a few educated guesses about what the British were planning to do, but this left his troops thinly spread throughout Brooklyn and Manhattan, which left the Continental Army at a big disadvantage.
While numerous skirmishes have broken out up and down the coast between the British and American militia forces from time to time, this was Washington’s first major tangle with the British Army. That it didn’t go so great wasn’t his fault; that it didn’t go as badly as it could have is entirely his doing, as we’ll learn in a few days.
The reason that this portrait—and most of the others—of Rufus Putnam is in profile is that, when he was a child, one of his eyes was disfigured in an accident, giving it a, “outward, oblique cast.”
Putnam joined the Revolutionary War effort the very first day, after the battle at Lexington and Concord. During the Siege of Boston, Putnam directed efforts to fortify Dorchester Heights. Part of what had the British so flummoxed about that wasn’t that he did a good job (though he did), it was that he managed to get it all up and in place so fast.
Rufus Putnam worked his way up through the ranks quickly, so that by the time he was in New York, he was a colonel and designated an engineer.
But in December 1776, when the Continental Congress rejected his proposition to establish a national corps of engineers, Putnam resigned his commission. His resignation was short-lived and he eventually joined the Continental Army and served under Major General Horatio Gates. Putnam commanded two regiments in the battle of Saratoga.
He continued to work on critical fortifications, including Fort Putnam at West Point in 1778. In 1779 Putnam served under Major General Anthony Wayne in the Corps of Light Infantry following the capture of Stony Point, commanding the 4th Regiment. Putnam’s remaining military career was less eventful. In January 1783 he was commissioned as brigadier general.
After the war, Putnam returned to Massachusetts and returned to his original work as a surveyor. But a few years later, in 1788, Putnam led a group of veterans to settle land in the west, where they established what we now call Marietta, Ohio, the first European-American permanent United States settlement in the Northwest Territory. Putnam was appointed to serve as one of three judges of the Northwest Territory after Samuel Holden Parsons died. Marietta was settled on land that the local natives considered theirs, and it took a couple of years for the Ohio Brigade (with Putnam in the lead) to beat them back.
As Ohio residents organized to write a constitution and be admitted as a state, in 1802 Putnam was elected a Washington county delegate to the Ohio Constitutional Convention.
Putnam died on May 4, 1824, and was buried at Mound Cemetery in Marietta, Ohio.
Ever the polite man, George Washington strongly urged (rather than ordered) civilians to evacuate Manhattan before the British began their attack.
Washington’s biggest problem was that he knew that the British were coming, but he had no idea how they were going to do it, given that Manhattan is an island, and while Brooklyn is not (its location at the west end of Long Island notwithstanding; work with me a little here), it’s still got a lot of coastline to defend. So even if Washington had a number of troops similar to the Howes, they’d likely be stretched a little thin. With slightly more than half the British strength, he’s definitely stretching thin.
So to evacuate Manhattan was the smartest move, since there was practically no way he could defend the land and the people living on it. The best he could do it say “please go, and with any luck you’ll be back before you know it.”
Unfortunately, “before you know it”, in this case, meant “not until 1783.”
Nathanael Greene was among the first to step up when the shooting started at Lexington and Concord. This is almost certainly because a British official seized a vessel owned by Greene and his brothers.
After the Intolerable Acts were enacted in 1774, Greene organized a militia unit called the “Kentish Guards.” Despite his leadership, he was not selected as an officer in that militia because he had a limp he’d acquired in childhood (there are no records extant showing why this was the case.)
However, when the war broke out, Greene was selected to lead the Rhode Island Army of Observation and head to Boston. That company was involved with the battle at Bunker Hill but Greene wasn’t there for it; he was visiting home at the time.
Later that month, the Continental Army was established, and he became Brigadier General Nathanael Greene. Greene remained with the Boston-based forces after the siege of that city ended, but he rejoined Washington shortly thereafter in New York. As we note in today’s episode, Greene was ill with a severe fever when the Battle of Long Island broke out, but he was able to take command for the Battle of Harlem Heights in September, during the withdrawal from Manhattan. We’ll talk about that more in a few weeks.
George Washington’s means for maintaining motivation in the Continental Army came from two directions: discipline and stirring rhetoric as a means of providing the troops with something to rally for.
And his Orders of the Day for this day seem to be focused simultaneously on both.
As noted elsewhere, Washington could be a stickler for protocol, and it shows in his Orders of the Day, which were usually written in the third person. But there was also some room—not a lot, but some—for a little floridness in his writing. For example, here’s an excerpt from today’s orders:
The Honorable Continental Congress having been pleased to allow a Chaplain to each Regiment, with the pay of Thirty-three Dollars and one third per month—The Colonels or commanding officers of each regiment are directed to procure Chaplains accordingly; persons of good Characters and exemplary lives—To see that all inferior officers and soldiers pay them a suitable respect and attend carefully upon religious exercises: The blessing and protection of Heaven are at all times necessary but especially so in times of public distress and danger—The General hopes and trusts, that every officer, and man, will endeavour so to live, and act, as becomes a Christian Soldier defending the dearest Rights and Liberties of his country.
In other words, God is here, we’re paying for him to be here, and God is someone you really don’t want to annoy, so get it together, please.
I promised you a postscript for the Christopher French story, but let me offer up some broader context first.
In July 1776, French wrote to George Washington from Connecticut, where he was being held as a prisoner of war. The purpose of the letter was to request parole from his confinement.
Washington’s reply reads:
Sir: I am to acknowledge the receipt of your favor of the [the date is missing here but from other documents it was probably the 22nd] July, intimating your expectations of release on the 12th. of this month.
I have considered your Parole, advised with those whose Knowledge and experience gives weight to their Opinion, and otherwise endeavoured to inform myself how far your Construction of it is founded upon Justice, Reason or Usage; I do not find it warranted by either, My Duty therefore Obliges me to over rule your Claim as a matter of Right. As a matter of favor, Indulgence is not in my Power, even if your General Line of Conduct as a Prisoner had been unexceptionable.
I have therefore wrote to the Committee of Hartford, sent them a Copy of this Letter and hope you will, without Difficulty, conform to the Regulations already made with respect to Prisoners, by the General Congress.
It is probable a general Exchange of Prisoners will soon take place, it will then be a pleasing part of my Duty, to facilitate your return to your Friends and connections, as I assure you it is now a painful one to disappoint you, in an Expectation which you seem to have formed, in a full Persuasion of being right and in which on mature Deliberation, I am so unhappy as totally to differ from you. I am Sir etc.
This much you knew. Here’s the postscript. Christopher French wrote another letter subsequent to the one Washington responded to. In that letter, which Washington received on August 8, it appears that French withdrew his request. Washington immediately sent a second letter, responding to this one:
Sir: I was unwilling to determine hastily, upon your claim of a Release founded upon your Parole, and therefore delayed the acknowledgment of your favor of the 22d July, until I should fully inform myself. I had accordingly wrote you Yesterday, that I was so unhappy as to differ from you in the construction you had put upon it, but as there was reason to believe, a General Exchange of Prisoners might soon take place, I should chearfully facilitate your return to your Friends.
Last Night I received your favour of the 5th. August waving your Claim of a Release, which makes any farther Discussion of that matter unnecessary. Your other proposal, of being exchanged for Major Meigs or Col. Allen, will meet with no Objection from me; should you write to General Howe on the Subject the Letter shall be chearfully forwarded and his Answer returned.
Should any Difficulty arise in the Exchange, I am doubtful, how far I should be authorized, without consulting the Congress, to grant you an Indulgence similar to that of Major Meigs, which I have been informed was allowed in consequence of his saving the Life of a British Officer, either nearly connected with, or much esteemed by General Carlton.
However, you may assure yourself Sir, that both Duty and Inclination lead me to relieve the unfortunate and that I agree with you, that your long and early Captivity gives you a very just Claim to special Notice, and I shall be happy in furthering your Wishes, as far as my Station will admit. I am Sir, etc.
In short, Washington was happy to be relieved of the burden of refusing the initial release, but also still more than willing to cooperate should a prisoner exchange take place.
When it came to army discipline, George Washington had some definite opinions. The punishments we hear about were rather harsh by modern standards, but Washington had some problems with his recruits that modern armies don’t tend to have.
Specifically, (and we’ve mentioned this before), the Continental Army had a relatively short enlistment period, which meant that soldiers were constantly turning over and by the time someone was finally in good shape as a soldier, they were gone and replaced with the next guy who had little idea of what he was doing. So Washington was constantly beset by soldiers who didn’t know how to be soldiers. This often meant that he had to lay down some harsh punishments to help ensure that his message got across.
The punishments themselves weren’t especially unique; discipline of this nature was meted out in many places. In fact, today’s cover art is actually taken from a British flogging nearly a hundred years later. But Washington and other military leaders of the Revolution cut their teeth on British army discipline, and it didn’t look a lot different: the prisoner was strapped to a frame of some kind; the other soldiers were required to witness; and the drummer boys (at right in this image) did their best to drown out the cries of the man being punished. We had to crop this image to fit the space, but you can also see a pair of legs sticking out from the bottom right: that’s a soldier who has fainted from the stress of watching. And the man at left is a doctor, who is actually monitoring the prisoner’s health to ensure that the punishment isn’t fatal. So he’s got that going for him, which is nice.
