Battle of Germantown
“Those fellows look very neat and prim; they march well, and their muskets are polished very bright. I wonder how they would stand fire,” said Higgins, after the party had seated themselves.
“I doubt if they would like it as well as parading the streets; but there may be some stout hearts among them,” replied old Harmar.
“They should have been at Brandywine or Germantown. At either place they would have had a chance to prove their stuff. Fife and drum would have been necessary, I think, to stir them up,” said Wilson.
“I paid a visit to Germantown, the other day,” said Mr. Jackson Harmar. “I passed over the chief portion of the battle-ground, and examined Chew’s house, where some of the British took refuge and managed to turn the fortunes of the day. The house is in a good state of preservation, and bears many marks of the conflict.”
“I have seen it since the day of the battle, and have also walked over the neighboring grounds,” said Smith “You are wrong in stating that the troops that threw themselves into that house turned the fortune of the day. Our defeat was the result of many unlooked-for circumstances, which no general could have been prepared to meet.”
“I have always understood that the check received by our troops at Chew’s house gave the enemy time to rally, and thus defeated Washington’s plan,” replied Mr. Jackson Harmar. “If it was otherwise, I should like to be informed of the circumstances.”
“Oh, tell us about the battle of Germantown, Mr. Smith!” exclaimed Mrs. Harmar. She had some acquaintances at Germantown, and she wished to astound them by the extent of her information. “Father says he was not in the battle, being sick at the time. Besides, if he knew, he would never condescend to tell me about it, when he could find Jackson to talk to.”
“Why, I’m sure, my child, you never seemed very anxious to know,” replied old Harmar; “but if you will listen to Mr. Smith, you will know all about it. He was present during the whole battle.”
“Ay; and did my share of the fighting, too,” added Smith. “But I’ll tell you how it was; and you, Mr. Harmar, may judge whether our defeat was owing in any degree to the exertions of the enemy. After General Howe took possession of Philadelphia, the main body of the British was encamped at Germantown. Our army lay at Skippack Creek, about sixteen miles from Germantown. Well, General Washington having received all the reinforcements he expected, and knowing that the enemy had been considerably weakened by sending detachments to take possession of the city and the ports on the river, determined to attempt to surprise them in their camp. The plan was formed with all the judgment and foresight we might expect in Washington. We were to march at night for Germantown. Wayne and Sullivan were to attack the left wing of the enemy in front, whilst Armstrong, with a body of militia, attacked it in the rear. Greene and Stephens were to attack the right wing in front, while Smallwood fell upon its rear. Then there was a strong reserve. Of course, I was with the Pennsylvania line, under Wayne’s command. We started on the evening of the third of October. I shall never forget that night’s march. It was very dark. We could scarcely see three feet from us; and, as we wished to move on so as not to be discovered by any of those who usually gave the enemy information, we carried very few lanthorns. The road, however, was well known, and we marched rapidly and surely. As we approached Germantown, we found an evidence that the enemy were aware of our vicinity, and Wayne determined to attack at once. Just at dawn of day, a party of Sullivan’s troops attacked the picket at the end of the village, and our whole division rushed on as the picket was driven in. The surprise was complete. The enemy could not make a stand. They were broken and routed, and their tents and marquees burnt. We pushed on, took some prisoners, and drove the British from behind fences and houses where they had taken shelter.
“Six companies of a British regiment, under their lieutenant-colonel, being hard pressed by an advancing column, threw themselves into Chew’s house, and, barricading the lower windows, opened a destructive fire from the cellars and upper windows. Our troops, finding their musketry made no impression, were in the act of dragging up their cannon to batter the walls, when a stratagem was attempted, which, however, failed of success. An officer galloped up from the house, and cried out, ‘What are you about? You will fire on your own people.’ The artillery opened, but, after fifteen or twenty rounds, the pieces were found to be of too small calibre to make a serious impression, and were withdrawn.
“A most daring attempt was then made to fire the building. Lieutenant-Colonel Laurens, aid-de-camp to the commander-in-chief, with a few volunteers, rushed up to the house under cover of the smoke, and applied a burning brand to the principal door, at the same time exchanging passes with his sword with the enemy on the inside. By almost a miracle, this gallant officer escaped unharmed, although his clothes were repeatedly torn by the enemy’s shot. Another and equally daring attempt was made by Major White, aide-de-camp to General Sullivan, but without as fortunate a result. The major, while in the act of firing one of the cellar windows, was mortally wounded, and died soon after.
“Washington accompanied the leading division under Major-General Sullivan, and cheered his soldiers in their brilliant onset, as they drove the enemy from point to point. Arriving in the vicinity of Chew’s house, the commander-in-chief halted to consult his officers as to the best course to be pursued towards this fortress that had so suddenly and unexpectedly sprung up in the way. The younger officers who were immediately attached to the person of the chief, and among the choicest spirits of the Revolution, including Hamilton, Reed, Pinckney, Laurens, and Lee, were for leaving Chew’s house to itself, or of turning the siege into a blockade, by stationing in its vicinity a body of troops to watch the movements of the garrison, and pressing on with the column in pursuit of the flying enemy. But the sages of the army, at the head of whom was Major-General Knox, repulsed at once the idea of leaving a fortified enemy in the rear, as contrary to the usages of war and the most approved military authorities.
“At this period of the action the fog had become so dense that objects could scarcely be distinguished at a few yards’ distance. We had penetrated the enemy’s camp even to their second line, which was drawn up to receive us about the centre of Germantown. The ammunition of the right wing, including the Maryland brigades, became exhausted, the soldiers holding up their empty cartridge boxes, when their officers called on them to rally and face the enemy. The extended line of operations, which embraced nearly two miles, the unfavorable nature of the ground in the environs of Germantown for the operations of the troops, a large portion of whom were undisciplined, the ground being much cut up, and intersected by stone fences and enclosures of various sorts, the delay of the left wing under Greene in getting into action—all these causes, combined with an atmosphere so dense from fog and smoke as to make it impossible to distinguish friend from foe, produced a retreat in our army at the moment when victory seemed to be within its grasp.
“Washington was among the foremost in his endeavors to restore the fallen fortunes of the day, and, while exerting himself to rally his broken columns, the exposure of his person became so imminent, that his officers, after affectionately remonstrating with him in vain, seized the bridle of his horse. The retreat, under all circumstances, was quite as favorable as could be expected. The whole of the artillery was saved, and as many of the wounded as could be removed. The ninth Virginia regiment, under Colonel Mathews, having penetrated so far as to be without support, after a desperate resistance, surrendered its remnant of a hundred men, including its colonel, who had received several bayonet wounds. The British pursued but two or three miles, making prisoners of the worn-out soldiers, who, after a night-march of fifteen miles and an action of three hours, were found exhausted and asleep in the fields and along the road.
“I made a narrow escape from being taken by a party of dragoons. They were nearly upon a small body of us that had got separated from our division, before we perceived them. I gave the alarm, and we ran on, as we thought, toward our troops; but the fog was so thick that we mistook the way, and wandered about for some time in constant risk of being surrounded by the enemy. At length we stumbled on the main body of our line, and retreated with them. I never saw a more irritated and disappointed set of men than our officers on that day. Every one had a different cause for the repulse. Some said that Greene did not come up in time to aid Wayne and Sullivan; while others said that Greene had performed the most effective service during the engagement, and that the loss of the day was owing to the military prejudices of Knox and some others, who would halt to attack Chew’s house, instead of following up the advantages already gained. Then the fog was blamed for the confusion it caused. The fact was, the defeat was owing to many causes combined, some of which I have mentioned.”
“The attack was certainly skilfully planned and truly executed, in spite of its want of success,” remarked old Harmar. “Your opinion of the causes of the defeat, Mr. Smith, is that which is now generally adopted. The halt at Chew’s house did not give rise to the retreat of Sullivan’s division. The ammunition of the troops was exhausted, and they were not aware of Greene’s approach until they had begun to fall back. By the way, did you hear how General Nash was killed?”
“He was killed by a cannon-ball, I believe,” replied Smith.
“Yes,” said old Harmar. “A round-shot from the British artillery striking a sign-post in Germantown, glanced therefrom, and, passing through his horse, shattered the general’s thigh on the opposite side. The fall of the animal hurled its unfortunate rider with considerable force to the ground. With surprising courage and presence of mind, General Nash, covering his wound with both of his hands, called to his men, ‘Never mind me, I have had a devil of a tumble; rush on, my boys, rush on the enemy—I’ll be after you presently.’ He could do no more.
Faint from loss of blood and the intense agony of his wound, the sufferer was borne to a house hard by, and attended by Dr. Craik, by special order of the commander-in-chief. The doctor gave his patient but feeble hopes of recovery, even with the chances of amputation, when Nash observed, ‘It may be considered unmanly to complain, but my agony is too great for human nature to bear. I am aware that my days, perhaps hours, are numbered, but I do not repine at my fate. I have fallen on the field of honor, while leading my brave Carolinians to the assault of the enemy. I have a last request to make of his Excellency, the commander-in-chief, that he will permit you, my dear doctor, to remain with me, to protect me while I live, and my remains from insult.’ Dr. Craik assured the general that he had nothing to fear from the enemy; it was impossible that they would harm him while living, or offer insult to his remains; that Lord Cornwallis was by this time in the field, and that, under his auspices, a wounded soldier would be treated with humanity and respect. The dying patriot and hero then uttered these memorable words: ‘I have no favors to expect from the enemy. I have been consistent in my principles and conduct since the commencement of the troubles. From the very first dawn of the Revolution I have ever been on the side of liberty and my country.’ “He lingered in extreme torture between two and three days, and died admired by his enemies, admired and lamented by his companions in arms. On Thursday, the ninth of October, the whole American army was paraded by order of the commander-in-chief, to perform the funeral obsequies of General Nash.”
“I have heard those who knew him best speak of him as a brave soldier and a noble-hearted man; and your account of his death assures me of the truth of their eulogy,” remarked Smith.
“It is said that Washington, seeing that his well-arranged plan was about to be defeated, could not control his anger and disappointment,” said Mr. Jackson Harmar.
“It is true. Washington, like all very great men, was naturally strongly passionate. His usual self-command was the more wonderful because it had been acquired by stern practice. The battle of Germantown was one of those few occasions in his life when his feelings burst through all restraint; and then, it is said by those who should know, that his wrath was fierce and terrible. The officers were compelled, by considerations of his safety, to lead his horse from the field. He did all that a man could do to rally his broken troops, and exposed himself as fearlessly as the bravest soldier. All his exertions were vain, however, and he became much irritated in consequence.”
“The retreat just when victory was within his grasp was enough to irritate any commander who valued his aim and plan,” observed Mr. Jackson Harmar, agreeing with Smith in the remarks which he had just made. “I suppose, if Washington had been completely successful at Germantown, the British would have been driven from Philadelphia,” said Higgins.
“Ay; and from the vicinity of Philadelphia,” replied Smith. “They could not have recovered from such a defeat.”