On June 28, 1778, American forces led by General George Washington clashed with the British Army at Monmouth Courthouse, New Jersey. The vanguard of the American Army was led that morning by General Charles Lee, who insisted he be given command of an attack he did not think prudent to make. The result was a disastrous withdrawal of Continental troops in the face of a British counterattack, an action that would spark confusion, hostility, and charges of treason, ultimately leading to the court martial of General Lee.
As Washington approached the field, his anger began to increase as signs of failure and collapse swirled around him. He had every reason to believe the morning’s action had been successful, but now his vanguard appeared to be retreating in confusion without having fired a shot. What had happened?
Read an excerpt from Jim Stempel’s Valley Forge To Monmouth: Six Transformative Months of the American Revolution, now available on Amazon and at virtually all online sellers, detailing Washington’s historic confrontation with Lee, his epic rally of the Continental Army and the furious battle that ensued – in all, one of the most hotly debated and controversial moments in American military history.
George Washington was furious, and there was no concealing it. Somewhat fortuitously – for our narrative, at least – Private Martin, who had fallen back with the American left wing, was seated nearby just as Washington made his appearance, and the hard-marching Martin provides a first-hand description of the event. “We had not retreated far before we came to a defile, a muddy, sloughy brook. While the artillery were passing this place, we sat down by the roadside. In a few minutes the Commander in Chief and suite [staff] crossed the road just where we were sitting. I heard him ask our officers ‘by whose order the troops were retreating,’ and being answered, ‘by General Lee’s,’ he said something, but as he was moving forward all the time this was passing, he was too far off for me to hear it distinctly. Those that were nearer to him said that his words were ‘d----n him.’ Whether he did thus express himself or not I do not know. It was certainly very unlike him, but he seemed at the instant to be in a great passion; his looks if not his words seemed to indicate as much.” Lee then approached Washington expecting, it has been suggested, to be congratulated for having saved the vanguard from a British pummeling, but General Washington was apparently in no mood for offering compliments. Moreover, while it’s true the advance had not so far been destroyed by the British, the individual unit commanders had made most of the decisions to withdraw based on the changing facts on the field (the approaching British columns that were making their individual positions untenable), not as a consequence of any directive from General Lee. Later suggestions that Lee deserved some praise for having overseen a skillful withdrawal seem, given the facts, overstated.
What transpired between Lee and Washington has been grist for historians for almost 250 years – in that few observers were near enough to overhear – and while their precise exchange remains open to debate, the general flow and nature of the confrontation are reasonably well understood. Washington was furious, and his fury alone appears to have stunned Lee, expecting, as he was, only accolades for his conduct. Washington demanded an explanation, Lee stammered, and Washington repeated his demand. Lee, simultaneously embarrassed and flummoxed, complained that his orders had been disobeyed, that his intelligence had been faulty, and that he did not wish to fight the British, numerous and professional as they were known to be. Some say Washington cursed Lee, others that he was obviously infuriated, but civil, yet there seems little doubt that Lee was stunned virtually speechless that hot afternoon as Washington repeatedly demanded an explanation for the flight of the vanguard before the British.
There are many accounts of the exchange that differ slightly, but I believe the one that may come closest to the truth is offered by historian Henry B. Dawson in his book Battles of the Unites States; by Sea and Land, published in 1858. Dawson was reportedly a meticulous historian, took his business quite seriously, and in his description of the Battle of Monmouth he repeats an account of Washington’s meeting with Lee supposedly passed-on by Lafayette on Sunday, August 15, 1824 to Daniel D. Tompkins, then vice-president of the United States. This description is probably not precisely accurate, but I suspect it captures the essence of their exchange:
At this instant the guilty author of the mischief, General Lee, rode up, and the commander-in-chief demanded, in the sternest manner, “What is the meaning of this, sir?” Disconcerted and crushed under the tone and terrible appearance of his chief, General Lee could do nothing more than stammer, “Sir, sir?” When, with more vehemence, and with a still more indignant expression, the question was repeated. A hurried explanation was attempted – his troops had been misled by contradictory intelligence, his officers had disobeyed his orders, and he had not felt it his duty to oppose the whole force of the enemy with the detachment under his command. Farther remarks were made on both sides, and, closing the interview with calling General Lee “a damned poltroon,” [coward] the commander-in-chief hastened back to the high ground between the meetinghouse and the bridge, where he formed the regiments of colonels Shreve, Patton, Grayson, Livingston, Cilley, and Ogden, and the left wing under Lord Stirling.
Those who discount Washington’s use of profanity at this moment generally do so on the basis of the commander-in-chief’s long-standing sense of decorum, dignity, and self-control. But Washington was known to have a terrible temper that was rarely displayed, but volcanic once unleashed, and everyone who saw him that day testified to his obvious state of extreme agitation. One other minor exchange that seems to have the ring of truth about it was later reported by Lt. Thomas Marshall of Grayson’s Regiment who insisted he heard Lee state, “Sir, these troops are not able to meet British Grenadiers.” To this Washington reportedly replied rather hotly, “Sir, they are able, and by God, they shall do it!” If true, this would surely have been in keeping with General Lee’s unrivaled admiration of British arms, a view he had espoused since the war’s inception. It is also in keeping with another statement James McHenry, one of Washington’s aides, overheard Lee make later that day, a comment which will be duly reported as our narrative continues.
Regardless of whatever words passed between the two generals that morning, however, the situation on the field was growing ever more dangerous for the Americans with every passing second. The British, in three columns, were now pressing close, and unless immediate steps were taken to slow their advance, much of the American vanguard appeared doomed. Bernardus Swartout, retreating with Scott’s detachment at the time, later recalled the critical moment. “We retired in great haste but in good order – the enemy pressed hard on our rear. After retreating two miles was met by Gen. Washington who was amazed to find us retreating – he ordered us to halt, form on a hill immediately in our front and face the enemy, accordingly did so, with alacrity, on a good piece of ground – the enemy had been advancing on us very fast, cutting our rear to pieces.”
Leaving the dumbstruck Lee behind, Washington then rode forward, only to discover firsthand the dire state of his retreating vanguard, and the menace that was fast approaching. Lt. Col. Tilghman recalls the scene: “The General seemed entirely at a loss, as he was on a piece of ground entirely strange to him; I told him what Lieutenant-Colonel Rhea had told me of his knowing the ground; he desired me to go bring him as quick as possible to him; to desire Colonel Shreve to form his regiment on a hill, which was afterwards our main position, and I think, to get the two small regiments of Grayson’s and Patton’s there also, that the line might be formed as quick as possible.”
Naturally, Washington had no way of knowing just how dire the situation really was until he observed the approaching enemy for himself. This comprehension in turn initiated a sudden burst of activity, leadership, and courage in the face of the enemy that would go down in history. Private Martin watched closely as Washington surveyed the field. “After passing us, he rode on to the plain field and took an observation of the advancing enemy. He remained there some time upon his old English charger, while the shot from the British artillery were rending up the earth all around him.” John Laurens also describes the moment: “All this disgraceful retreating, passed without the firing of a musket, over ground which might have been disputed inch by inch. We passed a defile and arrived at an eminence beyond, which was defended on one side by an impenetrable fen [marsh], on the other by thick woods where our men would have fought to advantage. Here, fortunately for the honour of the army, and the welfare of America, Genl Washington met the troops retreating in disorder.”
Alexander Hamilton, a nearby observer, later wrote, “I never saw the general to so much advantage. His coolness and firmness were admirable. He instantly took measures for checking the enemy’s advance, and giving time for the army, which was very near, to form and make proper disposition.”8 Washington’s aide, James McHenry, was also more than a little impressed. “The enemy, who were advancing rapidly, elated by our retreat, were to be checked – the most advantageous ground to be seized – The main body of the army to be formed – The enemy’s intentions and dispositions to be discovered – and a new plan of attack to be concerted – and all this too in the smallest interval of time – But it is in these moments of battle, that the genius of a general is displayed, when a very inconsiderable weight determines whether it shall be a victory or a defeat.”9 It should be noted that McHenry, Laurens, and Hamilton were all members of Washington’s staff and great admires of the general, nevertheless, many more than these three men have suggested that Washington’s initial appearance on the field at Monmouth may well have been his finest moment as commander-in-chief during the course of the entire war.
It was then approximately 1 o’clock in the afternoon, and General Washington had at best fifteen minutes to fully comprehend the British advance (that is, to survey all of its elements, then deduce their intentions), locate good ground for a defense of the main body, which was still coming up, and to cobble together a rearguard action in order to buy time for all the former to materialize. It was an extraordinary task, yet Washington dove into it with stunning effect. Private John Ackerman, retreating with Maxwell’s detachment, recalls how Washington rallied the vanguard’s fleeing remnants. “Gen Washington halted his troops, and the retreating Regement was immediately paraded having become disordered in retreating through the [morass]. He well recollects that Gen Washington on that occasion asked the troops if they could fight and that they answered him with three cheers.”
Washington rode up to Wayne’s troops, and ordered two units of select men out to make a stand with Wayne in a line of trees a short distance from the small bridge over which the majority of the vanguard was still crossing (to be known forever more as the Point of Woods). There General Wayne, with no more than 900 men, would be asked to fight and delay an advancing force of almost 2,500 of the King’s finest troops; an assignment to which “Mad Anthony” – always up for a good fight himself – responded enthusiastically. Likewise, an infantry unit under Lt. Col. Ogden formed below Wayne’s position in woods near the bridge, and there prepared to meet the British onslaught.
Riding his white charger, Washington was everywhere, extolling men to fight, slapping units together; trying desperately to position enough strength to at least slow the Redcoat juggernaut, now marching downhill in sight of the Spotswood Middle Brook. Meanwhile the main body was coming up on the road from Englishtown, and they would have to be placed with precision on dominating ground, lest they too be sacrificed in the impending action. Washington spotted Lee again, now sitting his horse at a distance, fancying himself relieved of command. There was no time to waste, nor was there time to wrangle over bruised egos. The commander-in-chief needed help now, and he asked if Lee would either help command the rearguard, such that it was, or retire over the bridge and help post the main body? The crestfallen Lee, much to his credit, opted to fight with the rearguard, and with that Washington dashed back across the bridge to the higher ground, hoping his meager rearguard might slow the British advance.
Henry Knox, Washington’s commander of artillery, had remained behind with Lee, and the two grabbed poor artillerist Eleazer Oswald, who had been fighting his guns for most of the morning, and had him unlimber his four pieces in a field opposite Wayne’s position. Oswald and his men were faint from the blistering heat and exhausted from battle, but they took their new position just the same, and prepared the guns to sweep the approaches to the bridge, now at their backs. But Oswald’s guns were unsupported, so Lee dragooned Colonel Livingston’s equally exhausted infantry command, insisting they take a position in defense of the guns. Livingston, almost delirious from the heat himself, eventually complied, leading his men toward a long tree lined fence (forever more known as The Hedgerow), where sweating and faint, they began to load their muskets.
On the decline leading toward the bridge, British Grenadiers, Guardsman, and Dragoons were sweeping inexorably toward the morass over which the bridge crossed – buckles and bayonets glistening in the noon day sun, shouted orders ringing in the suffocating air as dust trailed their footsteps, an imposing, seemingly irresistible force. Then suddenly all hell broke loose. On the right flank of the Redcoat formation, Wayne’s small detachment of select Continentals – hidden in the woods – unleashed a murderous volley at almost point blank range into the right flank of the marching British. The volley had a devastating effect, but the British units wheeled and attacked almost as quickly as they had come under fire. Bayonets lowered, the British charged, as Wayne’s men, prepared and waiting, received them. What ensued was a short, vicious clash as men met, bayonet-to-bayonet in the swirling smoke and confusion of the trees.
Mad Anthony later described the violence in a letter to his wife, telling her that Washington “Ordered me to keep post where he met us with Stewarts…Regiments and a Virginia Regt then under my Command with two pieces of Artillery and to keep in play until he had an [chance] of forming the Remainder of the Army and Restoring Order – We had but just taken post when the Enemy began their attack with Horse, foot, & artillery, the fire of their whole united force Obliged us after a Severe Conflict to give way.” Wayne’s troops were routed out of the woods in short order, but they had accomplished precisely what Washington had hoped for, forcing the Redcoats to change fronts and attack, thus buying the main body precious time to deploy on the high ground just beyond the bridge.
As Wayne’s men fled the woods, Colonel Matthias Ogden, commanding the 1st New Jersey, had, it can be recalled, positioned his men “on the left of the hedge-row, in a piece of wood, expecting to have had an opportunity of covering our men retreating.” He did not have long to wait, for the British infantry, like a red tide, were swarming everywhere. “In a short time after this,” said Ogden ”there was a pretty smart firing of musquetry on the right, in my front, immediately on which, a number of our men that had been engaged, retreated towards me in a direct line from the enemy; immediately on which I saw the enemy had crossed the morass on my left, and was moving down on that quarter, on which I ordered a retreat.”
Not far away Lt. Col. Oswald was still blasting away with his four artillery pieces, hurling everything he could manage at the Redcoats approaching the hedgerow. “I brought up the rear with Captain Cooke’s two pieces, and placed them on an eminence,” he tells us, “just in rear of the hedge-row, where I found the troops formed. Through the breeches that had been made in the fence I discharged several grapes of shot at the enemy, the infantry being engaged with them.” Another artillerist recalled the swirling fight. “We then unlimbered our pieces and retired a short distance, formed in the rear of a party of troops that were to cover our pieces. The enemy were then advancing; a very heavy fire began of musquetry in our front and left wing. General Knox gave us…orders to give the enemy a shot. I believe our people made a stand there about two minutes; after giving them two or three charges of grape shot, we were ordered to retire.”
John Laurens was now very much in the thick of things as the British approached the improvised hedgerow defense, and his account of the clash there is worth noting. “The two regiments were formed behind a fence in front of the position. The enemy’s horse advanced in full charge with admirable bravery to the distance of forty paces, when a general discharge from these regiments did great execution among them, and made them fly with the greatest precipitation. The grenadiers succeeded to the attack. At this time my horse was killed under me. In this spot the action was the hottest, and there was considerable slaughter of the British grenadiers. The General [Washington] ordered Woodford’s brigade with some artillery to take possession of an eminence on the enemy’s left and cannonade from thence. This produced an excellent effect. The enemy were prevented from advancing on us, and confined themselves to cannonade with a show of turning our left flank.” The British paid a heavy price for their advance, more than once being forced to regroup. Laurens continues, “The horse shewed themselves no more. The grenadiers shewed their backs and retreated every where with precipitation. They returned, however again to the charge, and were again repulsed.”
Private Martin had already crossed over the morass, and there his regiment took-up a new position on the down slope of the hill below where the main body was forming. “When we had secured our retreat, the artillery formed a line of pieces upon a long piece of elevated ground. Our detachment formed directly in front of the artillery, as a covering party, so far below on the declivity of the hill that the pieces could play over our heads.” From his elevated position Martin had a direct view of the action at the hedgerow. “By this time the British had come in contact with the New England forces at the fence, when a sharp conflict ensued. These troops maintained their ground, till the whole force of the enemy that could be brought to bear had charged upon them through the fence, and after being overpowered by numbers and the platoon officers had given orders for their several to leave the fence, they had to force them to retreat, so eager were they to be revenged on the invaders of their country and rights.”
The meager rearguard slapped together by Washington had gained the precious minutes necessary for him to work wonders behind them. The commander-in-chief had requested that Lt. Colonel Rhea be brought to him, because, it might be recalled, Rhea had grown up in the area, hence the ground that appeared a disorienting maze of woods, streams, defiles, and hills to any visitor, was for Rhea entirely familiar. If Washington’s appearance at exactly the moment necessary to rescue and redirect the vanguard’s retreat seemed exquisite, for the commander-in-chief, Rhea’s appeared nothing less than providential. Rhea knew the ground like the back of his hand, and he was quickly able to orient General Washington to the most defensible ground – a long hill behind the morass the vanguard had just struggled through that commanded all approaches. Owned by a farming family named Perrine, it would be known ever after as Perrine’s Hill. Washington, Steuben, and Stirling were all there, now placing the main body as it came up. “When fully established, the patriot line curved gently from its right, anchored just off the Englishtown Road above the ravine bridge, to a left flank on ground about a half mile away…For infantry, it was good defensive ground.”
As Perrine’s Hill dominated the surrounding countryside, it also provided Continental artillerists with marvelous fields of fire, which they at once took advantage of, covering the embattled rearguard. Stirling placed a battery of ten pieces in the center of the new Continental line, this soon to be augmented as more guns came up, and the rearguard withdrew across the bridge. These guns were immediately brought into line and began thumping away at the red-coated formations maneuvering below them, this, along with well delivered volleys of musketry, causing havoc in the British ranks. Lt. William Hale of the British Grenadiers, for instance, penned this description two weeks later. “I escaped unhurt in the very hot action of the 28th last month, allowed to be the severest that has happened, the Rebel’s Cannon playing Grape and Case [case shot] upon us at the distance of 40 yards and the small arms within little more than half that space.”
As more American artillery came up and unlimbered atop Perrine’s Hill, British artillery responded on the other side of the morass, going into battery about 1,200 yards from the Continental artillerists, and opening fire. Thus ensued the greatest artillery duel of the entire war, as rival batteries blasted away at one another in the sweltering heat for hours on end. Colonel Dearborn, retiring up Perrine’s Hill with the remnants of the vanguard, recalled the thunderous cannonade as it exploded across the fields. “We form’d about 12 pieces of Artillery being brought on the hill with us: the Enimy at the same time advancing very Rappedly finding we had form’d, they form’d in our front on a Ridge & brought up their Artilery within about 60 Rods of our front. When the brisket Cannonade on both sides that I Ever heard. Both Armies ware on Clear Ground & if any thing Can be call’d Musical where ther is so much Danger, I think tht ws the finest musick, I Ever heard. however the agreeableness of the musick was very often Lessen’d by the balls Coming too near – Our men being very much beat out with Fateague & which was very intence, we order’d them to sit Down & Rest them Selves.”
General Charles Lee had handled the brief rearguard action with bravery and skill, but once the last remnants of the vanguard escaped across the bridge to Perrine’s Hill, his services were needed elsewhere. Washington, now firmly in command of the consolidated army, ordered Lee to return to Englishtown in order to establish a strong fallback position, should the main body suffer a reverse on their present position. To this Lee thankfully agreed, now exhausted himself, and had he simply ridden off to Englishtown and followed his orders, his fate might well have remained untarnished. But he did not because, I suspect, Lee had not the capacity to refrain from the sort of self-serving invective that had always marred his career, and which, this time around, would help bring him to ruin. Responding to failure with grace was simply beyond the general’s verbal repertoire, hence his ride to Englishtown devolved very quickly into a defense of the morning’s collapse and, as a natural consequence, a condemnation of Washington’s aggressive tactics.
Meeting General Lee on the road to Englishtown, for instance, was Dr. Griffiths, who later testified that: “From what followed in conversation, I thought his expectation was, that the day would be disgraceful to the American arms; and as sure as we did attack, we would be beat, and he went on to assign reasons for it; the superiority of the enemy in point of discipline, that they outflanked us in cavalry, and that they outmaneuvered us, were urged by General Lee.” This was hardly the sort of intemperate speculation generally trafficked in by officers recently rebuked on the field of battle, but then tact had never been one of General Lee’s personality traits. Following his imprudent pleading with Dr. Griffiths, Lee continued his unfortunate sermonizing still further. It was at Englishtown, in fact, where James McHenry, as previously mentioned, overheard the General lecturing a gaggle of townspeople on the likelihood of an American debacle. “The general was on horseback,” McHenry later testified, “observing to a number of gentlemen who were standing round, that it was mere folly or madness, or words that conveyed to me a meaning of that kind, to make attempts against the enemy when they possessed so great a superiority of cavalry, and that, under such circumstances, we could not be successful.” Not only were these assertions foolish, hopelessly ill-timed, and simply wrong-headed, but, given the dismal results of General Lee’s morning leadership, they would rather naturally help grease the skids for his swift exit into historical oblivion, which will be addressed in a later chapter.
For hours the two sides pounded away at each other, the roar and fury of the cannonade carrying for miles in the sultry, smoke-filled air, this as infantrymen on both sides slid away into the cover of trees for protection and relief. Grenadier Hale was among them, noting that the infantry action was “followed by a most incessant and terrible cannonade of near three hours continuance; you may judge from the circumstances of our battalion of guns, 6 pounders, firing 160 rounds, and then desisting only lest ammunition should be wanting for Case shot; of the roar kept up by our twelves [twelve pound cannon] and howitzers, answered by near twenty pieces from their side on a hill 600 paces from ours.” Joseph Plumb Martin, positioned below the American artillery, but facing the British, had a bird’s eye view of the action. “The cannonade continued for some time without intermission,” said he, “when the British pieces being mostly disabled, they reluctantly crawled back from the height which they had occupied and hid themselves from our sight.”
Curiously, during the course of this booming cannonade, Martin witnessed an incident of some novelty. “A woman whose husband belonged to the artillery and who was then attached to a piece in the engagement, attended with her husband at the piece the whole time,” he explains. Then, as she was leaning over and reaching for a cartridge with which to reload the gun, “a cannon shot from the enemy passed directly between her legs without doing any other damage than carrying away all the lower part of her petticoat.” Unfazed by the near miss, the woman artillerist “observed that it was lucky it did not pass a little higher, for in that chase it might have carried away something else, and continued her occupation.”
The ground shook and the air reverberated for hours as men ducked for cover or searched longingly for water amid the fury of shot and shell, and the heat of a sweltering afternoon sun. Then suddenly the cannonade ceased as the British pulled back their pieces, and a sudden, eerie silence took the place of artillery thunder. The men on both sides brushed the sweat from their faces and prepared again for battle, no doubt wondering: what now?
From Valley Forge to Monmouth: Six Transformative Months of the America Revolution by Jim Stempel copyright 2020 Jim Stempel by permission of McFarland (McFarlandBooks.com)
Jim Stempel is a speaker and author of nine books on and numerous articles on American history, spirituality, and warfare. His newest book, Monmouth: Six Transformative Months of the American Revolution – will be released December. For a full preview, pricing, and pre-publication reviews, visit Amazon here Or, visit Jim Stempel's website for all his books, reviews, articles, biography, and interviews.
