Joseph Plumb Martin’s account of
the Battle of MonmouthJoseph Plumb Martin wrote A Narrative of Some of the Adventures, Dangers and Sufferings of a Revolutionary Soldier. Published in Hallowell, Maine, in 1830, Martin’s memoir is the most informative and readable account of the war—detailed, engaging, and humorous. Martin had a wonderful memory and considerable gifts as a storyteller. Martin’s inclination to relate a good yarn, however, compromised the historical merits of the work. He related witnessing events that he could not have seen and appears to have improved upon other happenings. While most of his account of the Battle of Monmouth can be independently verified, his account of seeing Washington confront Major-General Charles Lee appears to be fiction, and his description of watching Mary Hays help work a field piece contains implausible elements. The remainder of the account appears creditable—confirmed by other documents, topography, and archaeology—and provides detail available nowhere else.
In June 1778, Martin was a 17-year old private in the 8th Connecticut Regiment, an element of Varnum’s Brigade. This brigade consisted of four regiments: Short of battalion officers, as the Brigade marched from Valley Forge towards the Crown army, it had many men pulled out of the Brigade and assigned to light infantry battalions sent forward to shadow the Crown army. Martin was “picked” from his regiment and assigned to Colonel Joseph Cilley’s battalion, one of four that marched from Hopewell under Brigadier-General Charles Scott on June 24th. Martin’s account describes marching through Princeton at the end of a platoon, embarrassed by his rags, but admiring the beautiful young women who gathered to watch the army pass. Scott’s four light infantry battalions fell into the British rear at Allentown and followed the enemy up the Allentown-Shrewsbury road. On June 26th, they were joined by generals Lafayette and Wayne with another 1,000 light infantry. That night, Scott’s men—at the head of Continental advance force—camped along the road east of Robin’s Tavern near the Manalapan River. Martin remembered that his battalion “turned into a new ploughed field, and I laid down between two furrows and slept as sweet as though I had laid upon a bed of down.”
Garry Wheeler Stone
* * * * *The next morning, . . . we were again in motion . . .. We were marching on as usual, when, about ten or eleven o’clock, we were ordered to halt and then to face to the rightabout. As this order was given by the officers in rather a different way then than usual, we began to think something was out of joint somewhere, but what or where our united wisdom could not explain. The general opinion was that some part of the enemy had by some means gotten into our rear. We, however, retraced our steps till we came to our last night’s encamping ground, when we left the route of the enemy and went off a few miles to a place called Englishtown. It was uncommonly hot weather and we put up booths to protect us from the heat of the sun, which was almost unsupportable. Whether we lay here one or two nights I do not remember; in matters not which. We were early in the morning mustered out and ordered to leave all our baggage under the care of a guard (our baggage was trifling), taking only our blankets and provisions (our provisions were less), and prepare for immediate march and action.
The officer who commanded the platoon that I belonged to was a captain, belonging to the Rhode Island troops and a fine brave man he was; he feared nobody nor nothing. When we were paraded, —“Now,” said he to us, “you have been wishing for some days past to come up with the British, you have been wanting to fight, —now you shall have fighting enough before night.” The men did not need much haranguing to raise their courage, for when the officers came to order the sick and lame to stay behind as guards, they were forced to exercise their authority to the full extent before they could make even the invalids stay behind, and when some of their arms were about to be exchanged with those who were going into the field, they would not part with them. “If their arms went,” they said, “they would go with them at all events.”
After all things were put in order, we marched, but halted a few minutes in the village, where we were joined by a few other troops, and then proceeded on. We now heard a few reports of cannon ahead. We went in a road running through a deep narrow valley, which was for a considerable way covered with a thick wood; we were some time in passing this defile. While in the wood, we heard a volley or two of musketry, and upon inquiry we found it to be a party of our troops who had fired upon a party of British horse, but there was no fear of horse in the place in which we then were.
It was ten or eleven o’clock before we got through these woods and came out into the open fields. The first cleared land we came to was an Indian cornfield, surrounded on the east, west, and north sides by thick, tall trees. The sun shining full upon the field, the soil of which was sandy, the mouth of a heated oven seemed to me to be but a trifle hotter than this ploughed field; it was almost impossible to breathe. We had to fall back again as soon as we could, into the woods. By the time we had got under the shade of the trees and had taken breath, of which we had been almost deprived, we received orders to retreat, as all the left wing of the army, that part being under the command of General Lee, were retreating. Grating as this order was to our feelings, we were obliged to comply.
We had not retreated far before we came to a defile, a muddy, sloughy brook. While the artillery was passing this place, we sat down by the roadside. In a few minutes the Commander in Chief and suite 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. After passing us, he rode onto 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. After he had taken a view of the enemy, he returned and ordered the two Connecticut brigades to make a stand at a fence, in order to keep the enemy in check while the artillery and other troops crossed the before-mentioned defile. (It was the Connecticut and Rhode Island forces which occupied this post, notwithstanding what Dr. Ramsay says to the contrary. He seems willing, to say the least, to give the southern troops the credit due to the northern. A historian ought to be sure of the truth of circumstances before he relates them). 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. And here we waited the approach of the enemy, should he see fit to attack us.
By this time the British had come in contact with the New England forces at the fence, when a sharp conflict ensured. 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 platoons 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.
As soon as the troops had left this ground, the British planted their cannon upon the place and began a violent attack upon the artillery and our detachment, but neither could be routed. The cannonade continued for some time without intermission, when the British pieces being mostly disabled, they reluctantly crawled back from the height which they had occupied and hid themselves from our sight.
Before the cannonade had commenced, a part of the right wing of the British army had advanced across a low meadow and brook and occupied an orchard on our left. The weather was almost too hot to live in, and the British troops in the orchard were forced by the heat to shelter themselves from it under the trees. We had a four-pounder on the left of four pieces which kept a constant fire upon the enemy during the whole contest. After the British artillery had fallen back and the cannonade had mostly ceased in this quarter, and our detachment had an opportunity to look about us, Colonel (Joseph) Cilly of the New Hampshire Line, who was attached to our detachment, passed along in front of our line, inquiring for General Varnum’s men, who were the Connecticut and Rhode Island men belonging to our command. We answered, “Here we are.” He did not hear us in his hurry, but passed on. In a few minutes he returned, making the same inquiry. We again answered, “Here we are.” “Ah!” said he, “you are the boys I want to assist in driving those rascals from yon orchard.”
We were immediately ordered from our old detachment and joined another, the whole composing a corps of about five hundred men. We instantly marched towards the enemy’s right wing, which was in the orchard, and kept concealed from them as long as possible by keeping behind the bushes. When we could no longer keep ourselves concealed, we marched into the open fields and formed our line. The British immediately formed and began to retreat to the main body of their army. Colonel Cilly, finding that we were not likely to overtake the enemy before they reached the main body of the army, on account of fences and other obstructions, ordered three or four platoons from the right of our corps to pursue and attack them, and thus keep them in play till the rest of the detachment could come up, I was in this party; we pursued without order. As I passed through the orchard I saw a number of the enemy lying under the trees, killed by our fieldpiece, mentioned before. We overtook the enemy just as they were entering upon the meadow, which was rather bushy. When within about five rods of the rear of the retreating foe, I could distinguish everything about them. They were retreating in line, though in some disorder. I singled out a man and took my aim directly between his shoulders. (They were divested of their packs.) He was a good mark, being a broad-shouldered fellow. What became of him I know not; the fire and smoke hid him from my sight. One thing I know, that is, I took as deliberate aim at him as ever I did at any game in my life. But after all, I hope I did not kill him, although I intended to at the time.
By this time our whole party had arrived, and the British had obtained a position that suited them, as I suppose, for they returned our fire in good earnest, and we played the second part of the same Tue. They occupied a much higher piece of artillery, which the soldiers called a grasshopper. We had no artillery with us. The first shot they gave us from this piece cut off the thigh bone of a captain, just above the knee, and the whole heel of a private in the rear of him. We gave it to poor Sawney (for they were Scotch troops) so hot that he was forced to fall back and leave the ground they occupied. When our commander saw the retreating and nearly joined with their main body, he shouted, “Come, my boys, reload your pieces, and we will gibe them a set-off.” We did so, and gave them the parting salute and the firing on both sides ceased. We then laid ourselves down under the fences and bushes to take breath, for we had need of it. I presume everyone has heard of the heat of that day, but none can realize it that did not feel it. Fighting is hot work in cool weather, how much more so in such weather as it was on the twenty-eighth of June 1778.
After the action in our part of the army had ceased, I went to a well, a few rods off, to get some water. Here I found the wounded captain, mentioned before, lying on the ground and begging his sergeant, who pretended to have the care of him, to help him off the field or he should bleed to death. The sergeant and a man or two he had with him were taken up in hunting after plunder. It grieved me to see the poor man in such distress, and I asked the sergeant why he did not carry his officer to the surgeons. He said he would directly. “Directly!” said I, “why he will die directly.” I then offered to assist them in carrying him to a meetinghouse a short distance off, where the rest of the wounded men and the surgeons were. At length he condescended to be persuaded to carry hi off. I helped him to the place, and tarried a few minutes to see the wounded and two or three limbs amputated, and then returned to my party again where we remained the rest of the day and the following night, expecting to have another hack at them in the morning but they gave us the slip.
As soon as our party had ceased firing, it began in the center, and then upon the right, but as I was not in that part of the army, I had no “adventure” in it, but the firing was continued in one part or the other of the field the whole afternoon. Our troops remained o the field all night with the Commander in Chief. A regiment of Connecticut forces were sent to lie as near the enemy as possible and to watch their motions, but they disappointed us all. If my readers wish to know how they escaped so slyly without our knowledge, after such precautions being used to prevent it, I must tell them I know nothing about it. But if they will take the trouble to call upon John Trumbull, Esq., perhaps he will satisfy their curiosity. If he should chance to be out of the way (and ten chances to one if he is not) apply to McFingal, Canto 4th.
One little incident happened during the heat of the cannonade, which I was eyewitness to, and which I think would be unpardonable not to mention. 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. While in the act of reaching a cartridge and having one of her feet as far before the other as she could step, a cannon shot from the enemy passed directly between her legs without doing any other damage then carrying away all the lower part of her petticoat. Looking at it with apparent unconcern, she observed that it was lucky it did not pass a little higher, for in that case it might have carried away something else, and continued her occupation.