Fusiliers (16 page)

Brigadier Grant and his regiments were but bit-players in that morning’s drama. His job, and that of a Hessian division to his right under von Heister, was to keep the enemy engaged, so that the army’s elite could march around the end of the American line three miles inland. It had been left dangerously hanging on the Gowanus Ridge. William Howe, accompanied by Major Generals Clinton and Cornwallis had set out in the early hours, marching their troops nine miles to the point where they would begin their attack, a devastating onslaught that would sweep along Gowanus Ridge, behind the American defences, cutting continental regiments to pieces as it went.

Major General Alexander did not know what those two guns announced. The higher command of American troops was poor that day; nobody was sent to tell him about the disaster that began to overtake the army, and, being on the extreme right of the American line, the collapse beginning on the left would reach him last.

Grant began to push his own right forward, so as to keep Alexander engaged and get around his inland flank. The 23rd and 40th marched onwards, entering the wood occupied by Attlee’s men and driving them through. They emerged to a hail of fire. Several Fusiliers dropped, as did the commanding officer of the 40th, a lieutenant colonel also named Grant. This caused consternation in that regiment, and it fell for some time into disorder. Bullets claimed quite a few Fusiliers in these moments and it was those in particular that day who moved among the men, urging them on, that were targeted. Captain Grove was tumbled, receiving his death wound, as did that ardent Serjeant, Jeffrey Grimes. Poor Grimes would be buried in a common grave in America, his bright career as a soldier terminated abruptly.

The 23rd pushed on, but since its neighbouring battalion had halted, a flank had been left hanging, a position creating on a small scale the crisis that was now enveloping the Americans on the larger – for a long line of troops could deliver fire very well to its front, but when struck from the side end or rear usually collapsed. The Fusiliers weathered the
danger, and a soldier in one of the following regiments extolled them: ‘The 23rd Regiment signalised themselves in this action, and shewed such a good example, that undisciplined
recruits
among them, that had not even received their regimentals, fought with great courage.’

Howe’s hammer-blow was by this point breaking the enemy army to pieces. Many Americans, realising that there were redcoats behind as well as in front, broke ranks and fled. British soldiers gave chase in places, pursuing with little mercy. Other Americans remained in companies here or there trying to offer resistance. The battle broke down into many small engagements, confusion spreading through the copses and fields along with the smoke and cries of anguish.

When the 2nd British Grenadiers arrived close to Grant’s right at about 11 a.m., they were received with a smart volley from the men in front. Assuming them to be Hessians carried away in the general confusion, a party of redcoats went forward to ask them to stop. These men were all felled by the answering fire, for the Delaware Blues were no Hessians. Several officers would accuse Grant afterwards of dawdling and not pushing forward at this time as quickly as he ought.

Alexander tried to conduct an orderly withdrawal, but his men had the creek and swamp behind them, and their way to the bridge across it was blocked by British troops. The Marylanders made several attempts to charge through, but without success. Men began their last desperate bid to escape, throwing away their equipment, wading into the water, trying to swim the 80 yards across the creek.

By early afternoon, large parties of American prisoners were being collected. Major General Alexander was captured by Hessians as was the neighbouring divisional commander. There were various reports of summary executions, the commander of the British grenadiers for example, noting, ‘the Hessians gave very little quarter to any’. One Hessian returned the compliment, accusing the British of this crime, but admitting in a letter home that his own men beat some prisoners.

Lieutenant Colonel Attlee whose light infantry had clashed with the 23rd that morning surrendered with two dozen of his men at 5 p.m. He had spent some time looking for redcoats to ask for quarter, assuming they would give better treatment than the Germans. The remnants of Alexander’s brigade were marched back under guard, ‘receiving, as we passed, the most scurrilous and abusive language, both from the officers, soldiers and camp ladies, everyone at the time turning hangman, and demanding of the guard why we were taken’.

The prisoners, gathering in forlorn clumps, took some comfort at least from the news spreading in whispers between them that the hated Grant had been killed in the fight, for word of his bombastic performance in Parliament had spread through Alexander’s brigade. The rotund Scottish general had the pleasure of discussing his demise with one captured rebel and did not disabuse him. It was the commanding officer of the 40th, also named Grant, who had fallen that day, and not the noisy gastronome of Ballindalloch Castle.

The British Grenadiers, exulting at their victory, wanted to move straight into an attack on the Brooklyn lines, those built behind Gowanus Ridge on the feature dominating the ferry to Manhattan. Howe would not allow this, earning the scorn of Henry Clinton and several other senior officers, who felt he had failed to turn his victory into an annihilation. At the start of the day there were 10,000 or so American troops on Long Island – more than half of Washington’s army defending the whole of New York. The line on Gowanus Ridge accounted for about one third of those men. Howe’s attack captured 1,600 (1,100 on the day and 500 during following days), killed another 300 and drove the remainder either back into the Brooklyn lines or to desertion.

Casualties in General Howe’s army totalled 377 killed, wounded and missing. The losses, though, were considered small compared to the gain.

In the days after the battle of Long Island, morale soared. Captain Frederick Mackenzie noted in his journal that ‘the troops are all in the highest health and spirits’. No matter that Washington managed to escape from Brooklyn with thousands of Continentals, nor that General Howe moved with ponderous slowness to capitalise on his advantage; the stains of 1775 had been effaced, and the British army recovered considerably in its confidence.

While the British enjoyed the advantage of numbers, the story of numerous engagements had also validated General Howe’s orders on tactics. The column that delivered the flanking attack had been under strict orders to receive the enemy’s first fire before rushing in while the Americans reloaded. In numerous running engagements fought between fences or in the trees, the mystique of the American marksmen had to a considerable extent been destroyed. ‘They were not so dreadful as I expected,’ reported the commander of one British light infantry company that fell into an American ambush, ‘or they must have destroyed me and my whole company before we were
supported by anyone else.’ Others wrote that rifles took too long to reload and that some of the Americans had ended up stuck to trees with bayonets as a result.

The Hessians who had attacked in the centre felt that their casualties had been low because the Americans had all fired too high – a fault typical of green troops on high ground. It is clear, on the other hand, that Attlee’s advanced corps had contained some skilled marksmen, for they had claimed Grant at the head of the 40th and Grove of the 23rd. However, these dreadful tokens of skill at arms were generally set aside by British officers considering the victory, for their mood was up, they had overcome the fear of an enemy that had made the previous year’s retreat from Lexington and Concord such purgatory.

Those who scrambled over the abandoned enemy works could gaze across the water from Brooklyn heights to the city. With its large waterfront warehouses and five- or six-storey brick-built dwellings it projected an image of Dutch solidity. The gabled roofs were tiled with shingles that were ‘varnished and painted in a variety of colours, and, as a result, make a splendid appearance’. These reminders of the city’s origins as New Amsterdam were supplemented by fine public buildings – eighteen churches thrust their spires into the summer’s sky, with those of Trinity, Saint Paul’s and Saint George’s vying for supremacy. The Fusilier officers who had spent their first year in America garrisoned in New York could have pointed out other landmarks too; from the Old Ship Inn on the left of their panorama to the elegant cupola atop the jail on their right. It was, in short, a bigger and better city than Boston, a place that appeared to offer a better foundation for the reconstruction of British power in America.

It took weeks for General Howe to push forward again after Long Island. There were numerous military preparations and peace envoys were received on Staten Island. The Patriots having pushed forward America’s Declaration of Independence on 4 July, these talks proved fruitless. The thirteen states of the new republic saw themselves engaged in a struggle for survival and were no longer willing to discuss the terms of their subjection to a British King. The Howe brothers pressed on and by a series of landings, the British made ready to enter the city of New York.

In the early evening of 15 September the 5th Brigade received orders to march into New York. By 7 p.m. the 22nd Regiment was posted at the
Bowery. The commander, Brigadier Smith, looked up the road. Might it not be a good idea to deploy the brigade in order to block both roads leading out of the city, in case any American troops were still there, his Major of Brigade respectfully suggested? The Brigadier snapped back at Captain Mackenzie that he would not be hurried and would place the brigade as he thought proper. ‘Upon which’, noted the old Fusilier, ‘I was silent.’ Brigadier Smith made his own dispositions and went to bed. During the night, Mackenzie felt sure, many rebels found their way out of the city by the road along the North River, which had been left unguarded despite his pleas. Mackenzie retired, damning Smith in his journal, ‘he is slow, and not inclined to attend to whatever may be considered as advice, and … intent upon looking for comfortable quarters for himself.’

The following day Smith’s Brigade moved into the streets of New York passing abandoned fortifications ‘truly astonishing in their numbers and extent’. Inhabitants and redcoats stared suspiciously at one another, Mackenzie believing that quite a few of Washington’s soldiers were ‘now in the town, and as they have changed their dress it [was] extremely difficult to discover them’.

Washington’s army had left behind the usual detritus – cannon, blankets and stores of all kinds. Away from the city, Howe’s troops were marching on. The New York campaign had already delivered a battlefield victory to the British army, an important city, and a much-needed lift to the army’s spirits, but it would also produce some strange fruit. Among those who emerged in the city a couple of days after Smith’s brigade had arrived was Thomas Watson, who had deserted the Royal Welch Fusiliers in March 1775. He would soon be on trial for his life.

 

EIGHT

 

In Which Private Thomas Watson Stands Trial

On 21 September, five days after the army entered New York, a corporal of the 43rd had apprehended a suspicious character. He believed he recognised a former member of the 23rd from their time together in Boston. Thomas Watson was taken to the provost, locked up and charged with desertion.

General Howe’s army wasted little time bringing to trial the rogues who had disgraced the King’s uniform during the operations of the previous weeks. A general court martial was convened in New York late in September, and it began working its way through cases. On 3 October, Watson’s turn came.

Some ugly events that summer had put the court in an uncompromising mood. Those who longed for General Howe to make some examples felt that he might be answering their entreaties at last. John Hunter, a deserter, had been hanged three weeks earlier. Another man, Private John Winters of the 59th, having deserted from Boston the previous year and taken up arms with the rebels, was also hanged. Two men of the 57th had been sentenced to death for raping a Long Island girl.

The prisoner Watson was led into a large room where he would be judged by twelve men. This general court martial sat under the presidency of Lieutenant Colonel John Gunning, who would chair proceedings. The other eleven were officers of various regiments (none, it so happened, a 23rd Fusilier) who fitted this duty in with their other responsibilities. Convention dictated they be worldly-wise, experienced men, but in this instance two pipsqueak ensigns had joined the board, such were the exigencies of the campaign.

The man standing before them on 3 October 1776 was on trial for his life, for the legal code they worked by, the Articles of War, stipulated that death or lesser punishments could be imposed for desertion.

Watson heard the charge being read, and then the first witnesses were sworn. Serjeant Robert Laithwait and Corporal Thomas Hunter, both of his former company, testified that Watson had absconded early the previous March in Boston. It was time for the prisoner to speak in his own defence.