1776

1776

(This poem begins with the battle of Long Island, New York)

All was chaos and great loss

No orderly retreat was this

But the worst sort of rout

Officers shouting, pleading

Attempting to restore order,

Were quite literally run over

This was nothing less than a stampede

Not even the wide stream up ahead

Could impede the frenzied mob

Which plunged headlong

Into the frigid water

Rifles were held aloft by some,

But discarded shamefully by others

Men who tripped were soon smothered

Under the trampling, frantic feet

The wretched stench of defeat

Did more than merely linger,

Penetrating to my very core

As I paused above a rocky outcrop

Already I could see

The drifting of not yet bloated bodies

As they journeyed out to sea

The muddied stream wore a shade of crimson

And scattered about it’s shore

Were heaps of flesh

Which till recently had been human

The entire scene did reek of ruin

Yet what most dismayed my sight

Were the scattered packs and discarded muskets

Where had gone the spirit of our fight?

Was it only just a dream

Or had we not indeed defied

At least for a short time

The might of a far off king?

Only this morning we had stood united,

Side by side,

Our battle lines as stern and rigid

As our resolve

We had faced horrendous odds

The greatest force Great Britain had ever sent abroad

All throughout early august

Their ships were dropping anchor

Till at last their bare masts

So filled up the harbor

They resembled an entire forest

Of trimmed pine trees

And every man of war

Was a floating battery

Through their telescopic sights

Our officers were doubtless sent a shudder

By the mere numbers of disembarking troops

It appeared Staten Island would surely sink

Beneath it’s weight, they were so many

No doubt the teeming slums of London

Had been all but striped bare

Of able bodied, yet idle men

Ole King George had found a use for them

Rumor was, he’d even gone and hired Hessians

Mercenaries all the way from Germany!!

Such a crime could scarcely be believed

Yet how else could we account

For such a force upon our shores

We had thought ourselves blessed

Back when we had severed our ties

That the might of an ocean

Between us and England did lie

Yet they had weathered the Atlantic

With the most impressive army

Ever to set foot upon the continent

To and fro, each and every day

Did their splendid regiments parade

Displaying, for all of us to see

Their clear superiority

They wheeled about

With a precision

Which could only be weaned

Through endless drill

And the harshest forms of discipline

Why our enemy

Appeared more akin to machines than men!!

All throughout the summer

We had waited for them

With ten thousand souls

Here on Long Island’s soil

A similar number

Just across the East River in Manhattan

Where with our shovels and spades

We’d transformed New York

Into a city bristling with barricades

We were in dire need of such entrenchments

For besides cannon captured earlier in the war

We were armed only

With the wide variety of weapons

Which the men had brought with them

Brown Besses, Blunderbusses, Fowling pieces

And even an occasional rifle

Which, with it’s grooved barrel

Was capable of sending a bullet

A full two hundred yards accurately

With our musketry of such a wide variety

Our quartermasters faced a difficult chore

In keeping us supplied with ammunition

Fortunately our good citizens were all too eager

To donate items which could be melted down

The statue of King George upon his horse

Would alone provide sixteen-thousand rounds

An even more pressing problem

Than that of our weapons

Concerned the quality of the men

We hailed from every colony except Canada

Fathers straggling in with their sons

Or whole towns coming out in unison

A Virginian, George Washington,

Only nominally held command

For we were sorely untrained, ill supplied

And mostly only recently arrived

Our numbers always fluctuating

For men were free to leave at their own discretion

Farmers mostly, they’d drift in from the countryside

Only to vanish again come harvest time

Could these men, as yet untrained

Be counted upon to stand their ground

Once the battle was joined?

Or would their self-preserving instincts

Prove to be unmastered?

Were we headed for a disaster?

In and about the campfires

There were braggarts, full of bluster

Yet these men hadn’t yet seen battle

Would they still be so brave

When facing bayonets?

Certainly today they had failed their test

Though it must be said in the men’s defense

The British had struck where they were least expected

Though our front line was well protected,

Strung out though it was

Along the long stretch

Of Long Island’s heights

General Howe took us by surprise

Sending his men on a long flanking march this morning

Over an unguarded ford

And through an empty wood

Our extreme left flank was struck suddenly

And with all our guns facing the wrong way

It’s only to be expected then

That our raw troops became confused and panicked

Yet why were there no pickets?

Yet whoever is to blame

The truth remains

That we are no longer an army,

But instead a rabble

Being driven forward like a herd of cattle

And this after our first battle!!

Shamefully I could only wade the stream

With the rest of the stragglers

After all, it was a far better cry

Than being captured

Yet, though I was forced to swallow my pride,

I deeply seethed inside

Closing my eyes,

I softly cried

For assuredly on this most accursed day

Had our most glorious cause died

Our retreat was most discouraging

And we no doubt made a most pathetic sight

Yet we were safe once we reached the Brooklyn Heights

There we were joined by reserves

Who were well entrenched and rested

There was a brief moment of apprehension

When the redcoats

Reformed, and marching in cadence

Greatly shortened the distance

Between themselves and us

But alas,

It proved not a real thrust

But merely a feign,

A showy display

They then wheeled smartly about

And left us the day

Their coup de grace

Would apparently wait until entrenchments,

Creeping steadily closer

Would enable their artillery

To be brought fearlessly into range

We’d then be blown to bits

And our cause along with it

Sir William Howe had decided

Upon a most conservative plan of attack

Yet with the East River at our backs

We were still hopelessly trapped

Upon a most tiny strip of land

Clearly we now face annihilation

And yet how ironic

That it’s been just a mere two months

Since that most festive day

When our declaration

Was first ratified by the delegates

Jefferson’s emboldened statement

Concerning the rights of men

So eloquently put to the pen

Church bells peeled

Raucous crowds cheering

In all the town squares

Despite the sweltering heat

The streets were wild and alive

With hopes and dreams

Yet did we really believe

That we could somehow break free

From that wicked tyrant across the sea?

The naysayers were all too quick to point out

Just how heavily the odds were stacked

In his Majesty’s favor

Foolishly, we simply brushed them off as traitors

Yet here we are

Just a mere two months later

Heavily outnumbered

And with our backs to the river

Waiting for a sledgehammer blow to be delivered

We have but one small comfort;

To our credit

Though we hail from separate colonies

We shall surely hang together

Our common cause indeed has brought us closer

Mostly our men are from Jersey,

New York or New England

Yet I’ve met many a Virginian

Strange men, these southerners

Yet they’ve traveled so far

And are quite brave

Initially, we shared diseases

More than pleasantries

Yet that’s begun to change

Our shared dream of freedom,

Alike experiences and sufferings

Have served to ease tensions

Between the men

Perhaps one day

We indeed might have become

A nation united

Governed by ourselves

And not the petty whims

And harsh decrees

Of a far off king

Ahh, to dream of what might have been!!

As it stands,

I can no longer imagine

Such happenings

Although I keep my lips pursed,

Lest be denounced as defeatist,

Or worse yet a traitor

Still I pray that our leaders

Do seriously consider

The King’s olive branch petition

It may indeed be our last hope

For reconciliation

With shame and great sorrow

I eyed our proud banner

Whipping about fiercely in the breeze

White, red and blue

Her colors flew

Just like the Union Jack

But with horizontal bars

And a circle of thirteen stars

One for every colony but Canada

Which chose to side with the mother country

My, she was pretty

Yet though resplendent,

She was as yet untested

And so very recently sown

Why, our entire nation

Was not yet two months old!!

Such a shame

That so very soon

She may be driven down

For the last time

I closed my eyes and cried

For surely on this most accursed day

Had our most glorious cause died

With our entrenchments already dug

There was little else to distract me

From increasingly somber thoughts

My heart sinking ever further into despair

Damn the congress for their having demanded

That New York had to be defended

The city was astir with tories

Who would only be too happy

To welcome a British presence

But worse yet

It rested on the southern tip of an island

Which was adrift in a British sea

I mentioned before just how numerous

Were the ships of the enemy

Which could so easily sail

Up either the East or the Hudson rivers

We had submerged a few rusting hulks

And had laid steel cables

Yet to no avail

Our enemy still ruled the waterways

That is until a thick fog

Descended fortuitously

Washington, without hesitation

Issued orders for a evacuation

Campfires were kept lit

Though they were manned thinly

As our entire army

Throughout a long and restless night

Was ferried to the relative safety

Of Manhattan’s shore

In later years

I would learn just how precipitous

Was our dire predicament

On that nervous, near endless night

Apparently,

While we were busy straining

Against the broad river

A tory woman, loyal to the crown

Had sent one of her slaves

To deliver the alarming news

Of our attempted escape

Had he not stumbled across Hessians

Who understood not what he was saying

Our enterprise would have been quite literally sunk

Instead we were able to steal away

Perhaps to fight another day?

As I boarded one of the last boats

Just an hour before the revealing light of dawn ascended

I was awarded the most amazing sight

Of our commander in chief

Large in stature as well as measure

As he directed our rearguard

From astride his white horse

Washington was one of the very last to leave

Though we had been granted a reprieve

We were still in a bind

At the southern tip of Manhattan

Clearly New York would have to be abandoned

Yet still we dallied

As if we were capable of defending her

When we finally began to withdraw to the north

It was very nearly too late

Grenadiers stormed ashore at Kip’s Bay

A point midway up the island

The mere sight of the bright sun

Glinting so fiercely off their bayonets

Was more than enough to knot our bellies

And turn the supposed backbone

Of our shoreline

to so much jelly

Washington, who was at the scene exclaimed

‘Are these the men

with whom we are to defend America!!’

Incredulous,

He lashed out with his riding crop

At the men rushing past him

Yet to no avail

They still turned tail

Thoroughly dispirited,

He hung his head

Slouching in the saddle

The redcoats were already within musket range

When he was saved by a quick-thinking aide

Who pulled hard on his horses’ reins

To spirit the animal away

Had the redcoats marched swiftly

They could have then cut off our rearguard-

Henry Knox bringing up the artillery

Instead,

In the woods which would one day form Central Park

They shamefully stopped for tea!!

Only thus were four thousand men

And all our cannon spared

British laziness

(Or was it overconfidence?)

Had cost them yet another chance

To trap us near the sea

Yet no war has ever been won

Merely through great escapes

Our retreat, however miraculous,

Still reeked of defeat to the men

Who by now were most discouraged

Surprising it was then,

That we found our courage

At Harlem Heights

Where a skirmish was fed

Until it became a stiff fight

The queens own Black Watch

Was sent reeling in flight

Though it was but a small victory

It was one savored by the men

Who had little else to cheer

We’d built a pair of forts,

Washington and Lee,

To guard the Hudson

But the British defied their guns

And sailed at will

Up and down the river

Fort Washington,

In upper manhattan

Should thus have been abandoned

Yet into it’s inadequate defenses

We poured twenty-four hundred men

And far too many of our precious cannon

Some filthy Tory spy

Must have supplied Lord Howe

With the blueprints for it’s defenses

For his attack, when it came, was well planned

Simultaneous amphibious operations

Were launched against her north, east and southern sides

Many a mercenary german died

Assaulting the southern slope

For it was very steep

But our men couldn’t keep up their murderous fire

As their rifles soon were clogged

They’d been designed for hunting, not combat

And soon their barrels were too hot

The redcoats had an easier time

Though still over a hundred and fifty of them died

Yet with fifteen thousand of the enemy

Taking part in the assault

The end result was inevitable

As the enemy closed in,

Our men crowded together like cows

In a slaughtering pen,

Had no option but surrender

And thus were our comrades

Forced to stack their arms

The Germans,

Who had suffered greatly during the assault

Unleashed their anger on the prisoners

Many of them were stripped half-bare

And this in the frigid cold of late November

The poor souls were marched ignominiously

Back to New York

Where churches or the rotting hulks of ships

Would house them

That’s about as far as I got with this epic poem

But I can tell you how the story ends;

Washington and his men were chased

All the way across New Jersey

By Lord Cornwallis

Unlike General Howe, who moved slowly,

Continually allowing the Americans to escape

Lord Cornwallis, just like General Patton two centuries later

Believed in crushing the enemy swiftly

It was, therefore, a very desperate chase

And a very near thing

But Washington and his men were safe

Once they crossed the Delaware River

Still, they were in a bad way;

Morale, already low,

Plummeted with the onslaught of winter

And many enlistments were due to expire at the end of the year

Even worse, Washington was being undermined

By Major Charles Lee

The second in command

Of the Continental Army

Figuring the war was all but won,

The British and their German allies

Settled down in their New Jersey garrisons

It was on Christmas eve

When Washington recrossed the Delaware

And attacked Trenton,

Taking a thousand prisoners and the town

At the loss of only four men

Although the war would drag on

For another seven years,

It was this turn of events

Which gave the revolutionaries

The hope which sustained them

Through the difficult times ahead