Colonial Marines – Fix Bayonets!

From Across the Sea

Introduction

Nearly everyone recalls that the Seven Years’ War (1756 – 1763) was a global conflict that involved most of Europe’s great powers. It was primarily fought in Europe, in the Americas, and the Asian Pacific — but there were concurrent conflicts that included the French and Indian War (1754 – 1763), the Carnatic Wars (a series of conflicts in India’s coastal Carnatic region, 1744 – 1763), and the Anglo-Spanish War (1762 – 1763).

Opposing European alliances were led by Great Britain and France, both of which were seeking to establish global pre-eminence at the expense of the other. France and Spain opposed Great Britain in Europe and overseas with land armies, naval forces, and colonial forces. Great Britain’s ally, Prussia, sought territorial expansion in Europe and consolidation of its power. Great Britain also challenged France and Spain in the West Indies — with consequential results. Prussia wanted greater influence in the German principalities, and Austria wanted to regain control of Silesia and contain Prussian influence.

The conflict forced the realignment of traditional alliances (known as the Diplomatic Revolution of 1756), where Prussia became part of the British coalition (which included a long-time competitor of Prussia, the principality of Hanover — which was in personal union with Britain).[1] At the same time, Austria ended centuries of conflict between the Bourbon and Habsburg families by aligning itself with France, Saxony, Sweden, and Russia. Spain also aligned with France (1761). Smaller German states joined the war or supplied mercenaries to the parties involved.

Additionally, Anglo-French conflicts broke out in their North American colonies in 1754, when British and French colonial militias and their respective Native American allies engaged in small skirmishes and later full-scale colonial warfare. These colonial conflicts became a theatre of the Seven Years’ War when war was officially declared two years later. In the end, France lost most of its land on the Continent. Some historians claim that it was the most important event to occur in North America during the 18th century — prior to the American Revolution.[2]

Spain entered the war on the side of France in 1762, but the effort to invade British ally Portugal was unsuccessful. As it turned out, Spain’s alliance with France was a disaster because the British gained footholds in Havana, Cuba, and in Manila, The Philippines.

Inside Europe, the area that generated most of the conflict was Austria’s desire to recover Silesia from Prussia. This contest was resolved in 1763, but more importantly, the war’s end signaled the beginning of Great Britain’s rise to become the world’s foremost colonial and naval power. Until after its revolution, France had no chance of becoming a supreme power. Prussia confirmed its status as a great power and, in doing so, altered the balance of power in Europe.

New Beginnings

What most people do not realize, however, is that The Seven Years’ War marked a new beginning in the art and science of warfare. Frederick the Great embarked on land campaigns that later influenced Napoleon’s field commanders. Such terms as command and control and maneuver warfare both belonged to Frederick the Great. At sea, the British Royal Navy committed to decisive action under the leadership of Admiral Horatio Nelson. His innovations gave us Rule Britannia and the British Way of War.

What sets the Seven Years’ War apart from all prior Anglo-French experiences is not in the evolution of its transatlantic maritime conduct but in the innovation of a distinct military theory: amphibious operations.

Central to this doctrinal leap was Sir Thomas More Molyneux’s 1759 masterpiece, titled Conjunct Expeditions. It begins: “Happy for that People who are Sovereigns enough of the Sea to put [Littoral War] in Execution. For it comes like Thunder and Lightning to some unprepared Part of the World.”

Sir Thomas was an Oxford-educated guards officer serving on half-pay and a member of Parliament. His masterpiece was a unique addition to existing professional military literature. But while certain accomplishments were recognized for their importance as strategic blows, Quebec for example, none have become as studied or analyzed as Molyneux’s dissertation on amphibious warfare. The doctrine belongs to him alone.

There were indeed insulated instances of tactical flag signals and landing schemes that pre-date Molyneux’s Conjunct Expeditions, but his effort was the first to codify methods for employment by both land and sea forces.

Although he was writing primarily for a military audience (his training was Army, after all) rather than to a naval assembly, he sought to reduce, “if possible, this amphibious kind of warfare to a safe and regular system and to leave as little as we can to fortune and her caprices.” Sir Thomas was a brilliant man, an instinctive thinker who understood that every new expedition will, in all probability, produce some new improvement. He knew that while theory informs practice, its execution demands good judgment. His brilliance is illustrated by the fact that he placed “doctrine” second to the objectives and aims of the nation. The purpose of doctrine was to serve the national interests — as was a knowledge of geography, proper utilization of resources, galvanized political will, individual courage, and devotion to the success of such operations.

His understanding of the relationship between political ends and military means elevated his work to the level of that of Prussian General Carl von Clausewitz, who much later developed treatises on military theory incorporating the moral, psychological, and political aspects of war. Molyneux understood the importance between strategic intent and doctrinal capability. He knew that the disconnect between the two, or a failure to adapt to an evolving situation, brings forth the likelihood of defeat. Such principles are observable during The Seven Years’ War: Great Britain adapted its war aims and methods — France did not.

Evolutionary Challenges

The world’s vast oceans presented Great Britain’s navy with significant challenges beyond navigation and regular seamanship. There was a question of how best to project the Royal Navy’s power from sea to shore — a challenge that lasted two-hundred years. Today, naval and military war planners give as much thought and consideration to warfare in the littoral (nearshore) regions as they do the deep blue sea. But close-to-shore operations offer complex challenges that no one thought of in 1754. And opportunities that no one imagined. Molyneux indeed put in writing concepts that had never before been put to paper, but amphibious operations (without doctrine) had been a fact of warfare for three-thousand years. It had simply not reached its full potential.

We believe that the ancient Greeks were the first to use amphibious warfare techniques. This information was passed to us from Homer’s The Iliad and the Odyssey. It is, of course, possible that such an operation may have occurred at an earlier time, at a different place, but was simply not recorded in history. Still, according to the Iliad, Greek soldiers crossed the Aegean Sea and stormed ashore on the beaches near Troy, which began a siege lasting ten years.[3] Then, in 499 B.C., the Persians launched a waterborne attack against the Greeks. At the battle of Marathon in 490 B.C. Persian forces established a beachhead in their attempt to invade Greece. They employed ships specifically designed for off-loading ships near shore, and while the Persians successfully executed their amphibious operation, the Greeks defeated the Persian armies as they moved inland.

At the beginning of 56 B.C., Caesar split his army up and sent them out from their winter quarters to the various corners of Gaul. He dispatched his lieutenant in charge of cavalry, Titus Labienus, to Belgae to fend off German tribalists at the Rhine. To Quintus Titurius Sabinus and three legions, he assigned responsibility to pacify the Venelli on the northern coast. He directed Publius Crassus to lead twelve cohorts to southeast Aquitania near Hispania to pacify the ancient Basque. Caesar’s plan was intended to prevent rebellious tribes from joining forces against Roman authority.

In the winter of 57 BC, the tribes inhabiting the northern coast of Gaul surrendered their allegiance to Rome — and then, almost immediately raised an insurrection against their Roman governor, Julius Caesar. The insurrection was led by Veneti (modern-day Brittany) and Venelli (modern-day Normandy). There was no formal Roman government to rebel against, but as a matter of principle, the tribalists felt obliged to rebel against Roman authority.

With his remaining four legions, Caesar himself moved east from Belgae territory toward the Veneti on the eastern coast of Gaul. In fear of Rome’s infantry, the Veneti began abandoning their villages to set up fortified strongholds along rivers and tributaries where tides made passage difficult. None of those conditions stopped the Romans, however. Having seized the Veneti strongholds, Caesar forced them toward the sea, where the rebels had collected a large naval force from among their fleets docked between Gaul and Britannia — about two hundred and twenty ships strong.

Caesar had no intention of allowing the Veneti to succeed in their rebellion. He ordered assistance from the Roman navy in building ships, a project that took all summer. A member of Brutus’s family was placed in command of this fleet while Julius Caesar stood aground with his land force on the coastline to observe the fight.

The challenge facing the Romans was not the size nor the skill of the enemy but the construction of their ships. Roman ships were lighter with deeper hulls — ill-suited to traverse the rocky, shallow coastline. The Veneti’s ships were constructed of heavy oak, flat-bottomed, and suitable for nearshore operations. The strength of the oak and its thickness made the Roman technique of ramming ineffective. But the Veneti ships were also slower. The Romans were engineers. They developed a long pole with a large hook fastened to its tip, which would be shot at the yards and masts of the Gallic ships. The effect of such hooks destroyed the sails of the Veneti ships while keeping them afloat in the water. The device used to project these poles was re-engineered ballistae. After encircling the Veneti boats, Roman marines boarded them and put the crew to the sword. From this experience, the Romans learned how to utilize boats to land on Britannia’s shore. However, as a historical footnote, the tribes in Gaul were not, as they say, very fast learners. See also: Mare Nostrum.

Beginning around 800 A.D., the Norsemen (Vikings) began their raids into Western Europe via major rivers and estuaries. The people living along these rivers were so terrified of these raiders that even the lookout’s shout was enough to cause cardiac arrest in some people. In 1066, William the Conqueror successfully invaded England from Normandy, and he successfully imposed his will upon the Angles and Saxons then living in what became known as Angle Land (England). But other efforts to force a sea-to-shore landing weren’t as successful. Spain’s Armada came to a disastrous result while attempting to land troops in England in the year 1588.

The Marines and their Corps

The first U.S. Navy amphibious landing occurred during the American Revolution when in 1776, sailors and Marines stormed ashore in the British Bahamas. The Nassau landing wasn’t much to brag about (back then or now), but it was a start. Among the more famous amphibious raids conducted by Marines assigned to ship’s detachments occurred during the Barbary Wars.

While Marines did conduct ship-to-shore raids during the American Civil War, the Union Army conducted most amphibious raids because, in those days, the principal mission of American Marines was to serve aboard ship, not conduct raids ashore. Following the civil war, however, in the 1880s and 1890s, Navy squadron commanders occasionally dispatched their Marine Detachments ashore (augmented by ship’s company (called Bluejackets)) to emphasize Navy power in connection with U.S. gunboat diplomacy. The reader will find an example of such “amphibious operations” in the story of Handsome Jack.

U.S. Marines became serious students of amphibious warfare beginning with the landing at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, in 1898 — by every measure, a complete success and a demonstration to the nation that the Navy and Marine Corps had a unique skill set that might prove useful in future conflicts. In 1910, the Marines moved one step closer to forming a Fleet Marine Force organization with its creation of an Advanced Base Force — a concept seeking to provide an adequate defense of naval bases and installations within the Pacific Rim.[4]

Other countries attempted to employ amphibious operations, but mostly with disastrous results — such as during the Crimean War (1853) and the debacle at Gallipoli (1915 – 1916). As a consequence of the Gallipoli disaster, the U.S. Navy and Marine Corps began studying Amphibious Warfare in earnest in the 1920s and 1930s.

During the inter-war period (between world wars), international committees met to discuss how to achieve world peace. Among the recommendations was an agreement to impose a reduction to naval armaments. This effort was an unqualified disaster (and probably did as much to ignite World War II as the Allies’ unreasonable demand for reparations in 1919), but while government leaders hemmed and hawed, the U.S. Navy and Marine Corps proceeded with the development of specialized amphibious warfare equipment and doctrine.

Additionally, new troop organizations, landing craft, amphibious tractors that could travel on water and land, and landing tactics were devised, tested, re-examined, and retested. Training exercises emphasized using naval artillery and carrier-based aircraft to provide close fire support for assault troops. Combat loading techniques were developed so that ships could quickly unload the equipment required first in an amphibious landing, accepting some reductions in cargo stowage efficiency in return for improved assault capabilities.

To facilitate training for officers and NCOs in these newly acquired capabilities, a Marine Corps School was established at Quantico, Virginia — where subject matter could not only be taught but rehearsed, as well. In 1933, the Navy and Marines established the Fleet Marine Force (FMF) concept from what had been known as the Advance Base Force. The FMF became America’s quick-reaction force and became the standard vehicle through which emerging ideas about amphibious warfare could be tested through annual fleet landing exercises.

By 1934 Marine tacticians had developed effective amphibious techniques, and it was in that year the Marine Corps published its Tentative Landing Operations Manual, which today remains an important source of amphibious warfare doctrine. These preparations proved invaluable in World War II when the Marines not only spearheaded many of the attacks against Japanese-held islands in the Pacific War but also trained U.S. Army divisions that also participated in the Atlantic theater as well as the island-hopping Pacific Campaigns.

After a succession of U.S. defeats by the Imperial Japanese Navy, the tide of war turned. At Coral Sea in the southwest Pacific and Midway in the central Pacific, U.S. aircraft carriers stopped the Japanese advances in history’s first carrier-versus-carrier battles. Quickly taking the initiative, the United States began its offensive campaigns against the Japanese when, on 7 August 1942, the 1st Marine Division assaulted Tulagi Island and invaded Guadalcanal in the southwest Pacific. For an account of this engagement, see the series: Guadalcanal: First to Fight.

In the European-Mediterranean theaters, the distances were shorter from allied bases to the assault beaches, but the demand for amphibious expertise was equally high. Allied naval forces scrambled to secure amphibious shipping and landing craft to support the Atlantic-Mediterranean war effort. Senior Marine officers assigned to Naval Planning Staffs played an important role in the success of the invasion of North Africa (1942), Sicily, and Salerno (1943). The Atlantic War was challenging from several different aspects, and some of these efforts weren’t revealed until well after the end of the war. Colonel Pierre Julien Ortiz served with the OSS behind the lines, and Hollywood actor Sterling Hayden served as a U.S. Marine captain with the OSS in the Aegean Sea.

When Germany surrendered to the allied powers on 7 May 1945, Pacific War planners were putting the final touches on their invasion plan for mainland Japan. They were also awaiting the arrival of additional shipping and manpower from the European Theater. No one with any brains was enthusiastic about the idea of having to invade Japan.

The Battles for Saipan, Guam, Tinian, Peleliu, the Philippines, Iwo Jima, and Okinawa established one painful reality: an invasion of mainland Japan would be costly. Allied war planners had learned an important lesson from the Japanese during their island-hopping campaigns. The Japanese were using a suicidal defensive strategy. They realized they could not stop the Allied juggernaut — but they could certainly kill a lot of allied troops in their “defense in depth” strategy. This fact led allied war planners to envision another one million allied infantry dead before Japan finally capitulated — that is … unless a miraculous alternative somehow presented itself.

And one did

Much has been written about the decision to drop (two) atomic bombs on Japanese cities. Even General MacArthur argued that the Japanese were already beaten — that there was no justifiable reason to drop “the bomb.”

One can argue that General MacArthur was in a position to know whether atomic warfare was necessary, but in 1945, General MacArthur was 65 years old. He was from the “old school” American military. He did not believe that dropping nuclear weapons on innocent citizens was a moral course of action — and this was a fine argument. But then, neither was sending another million men into harm’s way when there was an alternative course of action. And, in any case, the Japanese themselves — by adopting their defense-in-depth strategy — signaled their understanding that they could not win the war. If the Japanese had to die in the war, then by all means, take as many Allied troops as possible along. This appalling (and incomprehensible) attitude pushed allied war planners into making that horrendous decision.

Two significant facts about this decision stand out. First, Japanese arrogance did not allow senior Japanese officials to admit they were beaten. They were happy to “fight on” until every Japanese man, woman, and child lay dead on the Japanese archipelago. Second, it took two (not one) atomic bombs to convince the Japanese they were beaten. Two. There was no need for two, but the Japanese would not capitulate until the bombing of Nagasaki three days after Hiroshima.[5]

When the Japanese finally did surrender, on 2 September 1945, World War II ended. The suffering of the Japanese people, however, continued for many years. Between 1945 – 1948, thousands of people died from starvation or exposure to frigid weather every single night for nearly three years. While this was happening, Allied forces had to manage the repatriation of Japanese Imperial forces throughout the Far East. In 1946, the Chinese civil war resumed and continued through 1949. In the face of all this, President Truman set into motion the deactivation of America’s wartime military (even though some of these men were still in harm’s way in China).

Following hostilities, the Office of Naval Research (ONR) reviewed all after-action reports from amphibious operations. As expected, many landing craft and amphibious-vehicle casualties were due to enemy action — but many were also related to problems with tidal waves and rip currents caused by undersea mountains that contributed to capsizing, swamping, or broaching landing craft.

For example, the analysis revealed flaws involving amphibious boats and tracked vehicles operating on confined landing areas, the slope of the beach, water levels, and soil. ONR found that saturated sand near the water’s edge would liquefy (and trap) landing vehicles due to the vibrations produced by an overabundance of vehicular traffic. One of the reasons allied forces continued to conduct training exercises on war-torn beaches (such as Iwo Jima) was to observe these conditions in detail and prepare findings that would improve the capabilities of U.S. amphibious assault vehicles.

Truman’s Folly

When the Korean War exploded late in June 1950, America’s military hierarchy, the Joint Chiefs of Staff (JCS), had already made up its mind that amphibious warfare was a relic of the past. They could not have been more wrong about that. The North Korean attack was lightning quick, overwhelming, and entirely the fault of Mr. “The Buck Stops Here Truman.” The poorly trained South Korean military was swept aside like a pile of autumn leaves — and the small American military advisory group with it. Nor were any of General MacArthur’s occupation forces serving in Japan any help. The only two services ready for this event were the U.S. Navy and Marine Corps — but only barely.

The North Korean Army was stopped in August 1950, but it was an awful bloody event that Truman somewhat dismissively linked to police action. It raged for three years and set into motion a series of armed conflicts that lasted twenty-five years. What turned this looming disaster around was an amphibious assault — one that General Omar Bradley, the JCS Chairman, said couldn’t be done. It took a Marine Corps two-star general to prove Bradley wrong.[6] While the North Korean Army began its stranglehold of the Pusan Perimeter, Major General Oliver P. Smith was planning the invasion of Inchon, Korea. On 16 September 1950, the amphibious assault that couldn’t be done had become a matter of history.

Following the Korean War, the United States permanently assigned naval task forces to the western Pacific and Mediterranean areas. In each of these strategically vital locations, one or more reinforced Marine infantry battalions served as the special landing force within the fleet amphibious ready group. The ARG/SLF provided quick responses to crises in Lebanon (1958), Laos (1961), Thailand (1962), the Dominican Republic (1965), and the Republic of Vietnam (1965).

More recently, 45 amphibious ships carried Marines to the Middle East and supported them in the late 1980s and 1990s — essentially, 75% of the Navy’s total active fleet. Before 1991, generally regarded as the Cold War period, U.S. Marines responded to crises about three to four times a year. Following Operation Desert Storm, the Marine Corps’ amphibious capabilities were called on roughly six times a year. Why? Because it is more cost-effective to maintain a rapid reaction force of Marines than to maintain the costs of maintaining American military bases overseas.

Today, the U.S. Marine Corps maintains three Marine Expeditionary Forces to respond to any crisis — no matter where in the world it might occur. Each MEF, working alongside a U.S. Navy Fleet command, can deploy any size combat structure from battalion landing teams and Marine Expeditionary Units (air, ground, logistics support capabilities) to expeditionary brigades and reinforced MEFs.

During the Vietnam War, III MEF became the largest Marine Corps combat command in the entire history of the Corps — exercising command authority over 80,000 Marines assigned to the 1st Marine Division, 3rd Marine Division, 1st Marine Aircraft Wing, 3rd Marine Aircraft Wing, the Force Logistics Command, and numerous U.S. Army and Vietnamese infantry organizations and their supporting elements. Over a period of more than six years, III MEF participated in 400 combat operations. Each Marine Expeditionary Force has the same quick-reaction capability.

No matter where these Marines might originate, there is one guarantee: when they arrive at their destination, they will be ready to fight a sustained engagement. At that instant, when they bust down the enemy’s front door, the enemy will know that these Marines have come from across the sea — just as Sir Thomas More Molyneux envisioned that they should.

Sources:

Anderson, F. The War that Made America: A Short History of the French and Indian War. Penguin Books, 2006.
Baden, C. The Ottoman Crimean War (1853 – 1856). Brill Publishing, 2010.
Blanning, T. Frederick the Great: King of Prussia. Yale University, 2016.
Fehrenbach, T. R. This Kind of War. Brassey’s Publications, 1963.
Fowler, W. H. Empires at War: The Seven Years’ War and the Struggle for North America. Douglas & McIntyre, 2005.
Heck, T. and B. A. Friedman, Eds., On Contested Shores: The Evolving Role of Amphibious Operations in the History of Warfare. Marine Corps University, 2020.
Marine Corps Publication: III Marine Expeditionary Force: Forward, Faithful, Focused, (2021).
Ricks, T. E. The Generals: American Military Command from World War II to Today. Penguin Press, 2012.
Savage, M. U.S. Marines in the Civil War. Warfare History Network, 2014.
Taylor, A. J. P. The Struggle for Mastery in Europe: 1848 – 1918. Oxford Press, 1954.
Vego, M. (2015) “On Littoral Warfare,” Naval War College Review: Vol. 68 : No. 2 , Article 4. Available at: https://digital-commons.usnwc.edu/nwc-review/vol68/iss2/4
Willmott, H. P. The Last Century of Sea Power: From Port Arthur to Chanak, 1894 – 1922. Indiana University Press, 2009.

Endnotes:

[1] “Personal Union” simply means that two countries share the same head of state — in this case, the monarch, George II.

[2] Anderson, F. Crucible of War: The Seven Years War and the Fate of Empire in British North America, 1754-1766. Random House, 2007.

[3] The ancient city of Troy was called Ilion (hence, the poem called Iliad). The city actually existed around 1,400 years B.C., and although the poem was believed written down around 800 B.C., it was carried down from one generation to the next as part of an oral tradition for several hundred years. Homer, of course, receives credit as its author.

[4] After full and frank discussions between the War and Navy departments, the Navy decided (and the War Department agreed) that there was no significant role for the U.S. Army in the matter of defending advanced naval bases/coaling stations in the Pacific Rim. For one thing, the Navy envisioned a defense force that it actually owned/controlled. That would be the Marines, of course. For another (as reflected in the Army’s rather poor showing during the Spanish-American War), the Army is simply too large/too heavy to operate as a strike force.

[5] For many years after the war, Japanese officials complained that ground zero at Nagasaki was an orphanage. This may be true. There were no “surgically precise” bombs in World War II. On the other hand, why did it take two atomic bombs to convince Japanese officials that the war was over?

[6] In 1946, General Bradley also predicted there would never again be a need for an amphibious operation.

Symbol of Command

The Marine Leader’s Sword

Introduction

One thing that stands out about the American republic is that it was born in war. As statesmen declared the independence of the United States in a somewhat eloquent indictment of King George III, tens of thousands of British soldiers and sailors converged on the American colonies to subdue the rebellion by force. The war would last eight years. The revolutionaries armed themselves with weapons that primarily served as hunting weapons; the British military was better armed.

The critical task of supplying colonial troops with the weapons needed to defeat their British enemy fell upon the Congress. In 1775, few factories in America were capable of producing firearms, swords, and other weapons, but none were capable of producing them in the quantities needed to sustain an army for several years.

At the height of the war, more than fifty-thousand men were under arms: another thirty-thousand troop served in state guard and militia units. To arm these men against the well-supplied British regulars, Congressional agents gathered weapons from various sources on two continents. Patriots had begun to store weapons in anticipation of hostilities between themselves and British regulars, some of which came from British armories and storehouses, provisional magazines, and supply ships.

At the beginning of the Revolution, Continental military officers relied on soldiers to bring their weapons from home — their hunting weapons, which included fowling pieces, smooth-bore Brown Bess muskets (suitable for use with ball or shot), and after 1776, the shotgun. These weapons also included outdated or barely serviceable firearms from the French and Indian Wars and weapons captured from enemies. It wasn’t a sufficient number of weapons.

It wasn’t long before congressional agents began issuing contracts to produce weapons. The domestic arms industry struggled to expand to meet demand, but they simply could not meet the need to sustain American troops through a protracted conflict. Congressional agents turned to France and Spain, who were too happy to supply arms to the Americans. Shipments from France began in 1776 — and continued through 1783.

The Edged Weapons

Edged weapons played a critical role in the Revolutionary War. Battles such as the Guilford Courthouse (North Carolina) were decided in bloody hand-to-hand combat where bayonets, swords, axes, and tomahawks were used with lethal effectiveness. The battle was a victory for the British, but they marched off with far fewer men than before the battle began.

Infantrymen in close combat, no longer able to load and fire their long guns, relied on hanger (hunting) swords or bayonets. Hunting swords were short, cut-and-thrust weapons used by German Jaegers and American riflemen. The bayonet was the most widely used edged weapon throughout the ages because it transformed muskets/rifles into a spear — which terrified inexperienced/poorly trained troops. The officer’s small sword was a pervasive civilian pattern worn as part of a gentleman’s formal attire and the most common sword carried by officers during the Revolution. Officer’s swords were light, straight, and slender in design; Cavalry swords were heavier, longer, and curved.[1] Shown right, pre-Revolutionary gentleman’s sword owned by Richard Varick, Aide-de-Camp to General Washington.

The Marines

Marine Corps officers and noncommissioned officers have carried swords since the American Revolutionary War. Presumably, the swords carried by officers ashore were gentleman’s swords, while officers and enlisted men serving aboard ship used cutlasses.[2] What made cutlasses appropriate aboard ships was that they did not hinder or trip fighting men as they boarded enemy ships, climbed the rigging, or battled an enemy in close-in fighting. The broad, heavy blade of the cutlass was sufficient for crushing skulls or decapitating heads.

The Continental Navy cutlass was the cousin of the cavalry saber but designed and constructed for fighting at sea, on crowded decks, in rolling seas. Unlike the cavalry saber, the cutlass did not have the advantage of a galloping horse behind it, so its weight and the muscled arm of an experienced sailor or Marine had to be sufficient to kill the enemy, and the shorter time it took to do that, the better for whoever wielded it. A large, enclosed handguard shielded the swordsman’s hand.

The cutlass was a highly specialized weapon that evolved from the falchion (shown right). Between 1740-1780, the cutlass was a sturdy but straightforward instrument with an imported blade and a crude wooden cylinder for a hilt. The single-edged blade was curved so slightly that it might appear straight at first. One of the first Americans to make this weapon was Richard Gridley. Even after 1775, the American cutlass was a crude affair, so whenever possible, rebels captured and used the superior British cutlass, the hilt of which was made of blackened iron. The grip was hollow for a better balance.

The NCO’s

When serving ashore, starting in the 1820s, Marine NCOs began wearing distinctive short sabers with a cast brass eagle head hilt and curved blades. In 1859, a completely new sword pattern emerged, originally patterned on the U.S. Army infantry officer’s sword (model 1850). The Marine NCO sword may be patterned after the foot officer’s sword, but with significant differences. The Army sword had heavy wide blades, while the early Marine NCO swords had highly polished blades. These swords were finally incorporated into Marine Corps regulations in 1875 even though they were in use since 1859, and in fact, with slight modifications, remain in service today. The M1859 Marine Corps NCO Sword is the oldest weapon in continued (unbroken) service in the U.S. weapons inventory.

Today’s NCO Sword features a cast-brass hilt with a half-basket handguard. It has a leather-wrapped grip bound with twisted brass wire, a slightly curved, single-edged blade, beautifully etched, with a wide central fuller and short false edge. The NCO sword comes with a black leather scabbard with two brass mounts.

Marine Officer’s Sword

The current Marine Corps Officer’s Sword is patterned on the Mameluke Sword allegedly presented to First Lieutenant Presley O’Bannon by the Ottoman Empire, Viceroy Prince Hamet, on 8 December 1805, as a gesture of respect and praise for the Marine’s performance in combat at the Battle of Derna. Subsequently, in 1825, the Commandant of the Marine Corps adopted the Mameluke Sword for wear by officers.[3]

In 1859, the Marine Corps prescribed a completely new sword pattern for Marine Corps officers; it was the same sword prescribed for NCOs with differences in brass hilts, scabbard mounts, and hand grips. The grips of NCO swords were wrapped in leather, while the officer’s grips were covered by sharkskin. In 1875, Marine Corps regulations again prescribed the Mameluke Sword for wear by commissioned officers; it has been an item of a Marine Corps Officer’s seabag ever since.

The Mystery of O’Bannon’s Sword

Almost everyone, Marine or otherwise, knows about “Chesty” Puller. My guess is that hardly anyone outside the Marine Corps knows about Presley O’Bannon, who has become a Marine Corps legend. It has become a tradition in the Marine Corps to name its buildings in honor of those who distinguished themselves as Marines. One such building at Quantico, Virginia, is O’Bannon Hall. Literally, every Marine Corps second lieutenant wants to grow up and become like First Lieutenant Presley O’Bannon. He is, to Marines, a man from history who embodies what a Marine should be: Courageous, daring, and resourceful. I know something of Lieutenant O’Bannon, primarily from my research on the Barbary Wars. What I know of his sword, however, I picked up from the writings of Brigadier General E. H. Simmons, USMC (deceased).[4]

As indicated previously, the popular story is that O’Bannon received the Mameluke Sword from Prince Hamet in recognition for his daring exploits during the Battle of Derna. It may be accurate, but in the absence of written records, we aren’t entirely sure. But there is a more plausible story, which is just as interesting.

To recap the event, First Lieutenant O’Bannon, a Navy midshipman, and six privates provided the backbone to a force of mercenaries raised and hired by U.S. Naval Agent William Eaton, himself a former U.S. Army officer. Eaton hired these mercenaries in Egypt and, with O’Bannon as his second in command, marched 600 miles across the Libyan desert, intending to reinstate Hamet Qaramanli to his rightful throne. Hamet had been forced out of Tripoli by his brother, Yusef, who seized the throne for himself. Normally, this family matter would not have peeked the interests of the U.S. government, except that in May 1801, Yusef cut down the flagpole in front of the U.S. Consulate and declared war on the United States of America — an insult to the United States that could not be left unanswered.[5]

President Jefferson reciprocated by sending a naval squadron to the Mediterranean (the forerunner of today’s Sixth Fleet), but not much was accomplished in “demanding satisfaction” until Commodore Samuel Barron assumed command of the squadron in September 1804. Serving under Barron was Mr. Eaton, a scholar of Arabic language and somewhat of an eccentric.

On 27 April 1805, Eaton assaulted the walled city of Derna under cover of smoothbore naval gunfire from the 18-gun brig USS Argus (captained by one of the navy’s greatest commanders, Master Commandant Isaac Hull), the sloop USS Hornet, and the schooner USS Nautilus. Observing the action ashore, Master Commandant Hull reported: “At about half after three we had the satisfaction to see Lieutenant O’Bannon and Mr. Mann, midshipman of the Argus, with a few brave fellows with them, enter the fort, haul down the Enemy’s flag, and plant the American ensign on the walls of the battery. And on turning the guns of the battery on the town, they found that the enemy had left them in great haste, as they [the guns] were found primed and loaded. In two hours, the city was taken.”

So impressed was Hamet with O’Bannon’s courage that he presented him with a jeweled Mameluke scimitar. This operation was later quite favorably noted by British Admiral Lord Horatio Nelson, calling it “The most daring act of the age.” The problem is not with the operation, which is well-documented. The problem, for Marines, is whether O’Bannon actually received a Mameluke sword from Hamet Bashaw. If he did, where is it?

According to General Simmons, there are several claims (and possible answers) to the question, noting that senior European officers popularly wore the Mameluke (style) sword. Napoleon had one. The Duke of Wellington had one. Senior flag officers in Great Britain continue to wear the Mameluke sword during ceremonies while in evening dress. In other words, there were no shortages of Mameluke Swords from the early to mid-1800s.

There is a Mameluke Sword at the U.S. Naval Academy Museum in Annapolis that has “a claim” for being the genuine O’Bannon sword. According to the curators, after receiving the sword from Hamet, Lieutenant O’Bannon passed it to his executive officer, Midshipman George Washington Mann — and it has remained in possession of the Mann family until it was loaned to the museum.

Midshipman Mann was the son of Colonel George Mann, born in Annapolis in 1783. Colonel Mann owned an Inn on Conduit Street, which claims to be one of many places where General George Washington rested his weary head — and might account for Colonel Mann naming his son after the nation’s first Commander-in-Chief.

Mann entered naval service in 1801 and was posted to the Mediterranean Squadron. In 1804, Midshipman Mann served aboard USS Argus, whose Marine Detachment Commander was First Lieutenant Presley N. O’Bannon. O’Bannon himself received his commission as a second lieutenant of Marines in 1801 and served in the Mediterranean in 1802. Argus was the ship that transported William Eaton to Alexandria, Egypt, in 1804. To assist Eaton in his mission, Master Commandant Isaac Hull detached O’Bannon, Mann, and six privates to accompany him ashore. Eaton’s mission was to locate Hamet Qaramanli in Egypt and, if possible, restore him to his rightful throne. This particular story ends with the Battle of Derna (1805).

Afterward, Midshipman Mann returned home due to an injury to his eye, presumably received during the fight, but returned to active service in 1807. The Navy advanced him to Lieutenant in 1809, and he served until 1811 when he resigned his commission and returned home. The Mann family continues to live in the Annapolis area.

There is no question that the Mann family’s Mameluke sword is genuine. However, the question remains whether it is the sword presented to Lieutenant O’Bannon. The question arises from the fact that there is a near-identical Mameluke scimitar in the USS Constitution Museum in Charlestown, Massachusetts, presented to Master Commandant Isaac Hull by William Eaton, accompanied by a letter written to Hull by Eaton on 14 January 1805. In this letter, Eaton stated, “Kourshek Ahmet Pasha has given you a present of a superb saber which he intends for you, worth $200, all the gentlemen with me received the same compliment.”[6]

Presley Neville O’Bannon was one of the gentlemen present with Eaton when the swords were presented (i.e., more than one). Midshipman Mann was also present. The swords were given to “the gentlemen” in advance of the Battle of Derna, not as a reward for deeds accomplished but in anticipation of an event yet to come. The Battle of Derna was fought between 27 April – 13 May 1805. This brings us back to the question, “Where is Lieutenant O’Bannon’s sword?”

William Eaton returned to the United States in November 1805 through Norfolk, Virginia. At a dinner in his honor held in Richmond, both Lieutenant O’Bannon and Midshipman Mann received toasts in absentia as “… the heroes who first planted the American banner on the walls of Derna.” The following month, Mr. John Love, a delegate to the Virginia Assembly representing Fauquier County, where O’Bannon was born, proposed that Virginia honor O’Bannon with “… a handsome sword with such appropriate devices thereon as they may think proper.” Mr. Love’s proposal sailed through both houses of the state legislature. In January 1806, the governor presented the measure to the Council of State, which named a committee to select an appropriate design for the sword.

Six months later, the committee submitted its proposal to Major John Clarke, Superintendent of the Virginia Manufactory of Arms, Richmond. The sword design was elaborate with, among other things, the head of a bearded and turbaned Moslem for a pommel and an engraving on the hilt of O’Bannon raising the flag over Derna. Major Clarke had only just finished the blade in 1809 when he was replaced as superintendent by Mr. John Carter of Richmond. Carter completed the sword in July 1810.

Meanwhile, Captain O’Bannon had resigned his commission, married Matilda Heard in Frederick County, Virginia, in 1809, and relocated to Kentucky in the same year. O’Bannon didn’t receive the Virginia sword until the fall of 1812.[7]

At the time of Captain O’Bannon’s death, he was living in the home of his cousin John O’Bannon, in Henry County, Kentucky. He also died without a will. It wasn’t until an article about Captain O’Bannon appeared in the Louisville Courier-Journal in 1917, written by John Presley Cain (a collateral descendant of O’Bannon), that the Daughters of the American Revolution (DAR) began looking into the O’Bannon story. Mr. Cain, having revealed O’Bannon’s burial place on a farm just outside Pleasureville, Kentucky, prompted the DAR to seek the permission of his descendants to move his remains to the Frankfort Cemetery. O’Bannon was reinterred there on 14 June 1920.

At the ceremony, Miss Margaret Mosely (Kansas City), a third-great niece of O’Bannon, brought the Virginia Sword and had it displayed unsheathed and crossed with its scabbard on top of the gravestone. In 1941, Mrs. Margaret Mosley-Culver donated the Virginia Sword to the U.S. Marine Corps Museum. To add to the confusion, the Virginia Sword has been variously described as a Mameluke Sword, which it is not. It more closely resembles a U.S. Army infantry officer’s sword.

There is also some myth associated with Lieutenant Colonel Commandant Archibald Henderson’s decision to prescribe the Mameluke Sword for wear by Marine Corps officers. After the U.S. Congress disbanded the Continental Navy and Marine Corps at the end of the Revolutionary War, the only military secretary was the Secretary of War until 1798, when Congress re-established the Navy Department. During those “in-between” years, uniform regulations fell under the purview of the Secretary of War. It wasn’t until 1804 that the Secretary of the Navy, Mr. Robert Smith, authorized “yellow-mounted sabers with gilt scabbards” for Marine Corps officers. The wording of the regulation allowed Marine officers to wear just about any sword that met that vague description.

Why Henderson prescribed the Mameluke Sword remains a mystery. Part of the legend is that O’Bannon and Henderson had (at some point) served together and that Henderson so admired O’Bannon that he prescribed the Mameluke Sword for all Marine Corps officers. It is an interesting story, but according to General Simmons, unlikely. If the two men ever met, it was probably a brief encounter. Henderson did not enter Marine Corps service until 1806; O’Bannon resigned in 1807.

In any case, Henderson’s uniform regulations of 26 April 1825 prescribed the officer’s sword as follows: “All officers when on duty either in full or undress uniform, shall wear a plain brass scabbard sword or saber, with a Mameluke hilt of white ivory and a gold tassel; extreme length of the sword three-feet, one-inch only to serve as a cut and thrust — the hilt in length four-inches and three-quarters, width of scabbard one-inch and seven-eighths, width of blade one-inch.” This, according to General Simmons, describes Henderson’s own sword exactly.

Between 900-1250 A.D., Egyptian dynasties included several ethnic/cultural groups, such as the Ikhshidids, Fatimids, and Ayyubids. They were primarily served and guarded by Mamelukes, individuals of Turkic, Caucasian, Eastern, and Southeastern European origin. The Mameluke was both free-born warriors and indentured fighters — a class of Egyptian knights whose influence increased within the Moslem hierarchy. The increase in political influence was worrisome to the Ayyubids, as it should have been. One Moslem historian describes the origin of the Mameluke as “enslaved Christians.” Accordingly, Moslems looked upon the Mameluke as “infidels,” or unbelievers who refused to surrender to the will of Allah.

In 1250, a Mameluke became Sultan of Egypt, and his heirs ruled Egypt through 1517. But even when Napoleon invaded Egypt in 1798, Mamelukes maintained a considerable hold over the sultanate. The word Mameluke in Arabic, by the way, means “one who is owned.” It refers to non-Arab people “enslaved” to Moslem rulers. Their reputation as fighters (and their uniforms) impressed Napoleon and his marshals.[8] The French recruited Mamelukes as personal guards and adopted their swords, which, as we can see today, are displayed in numerous paintings of high French officers — such as Lieutenant General Jean-Baptiste Antoine Marcelin Marbot.

The sword’s earliest form was a light horseman’s weapon intended for slashing. When the British manufacturer Wilkinson Swords straightened the blade, they ruined the sword as a weapon, which may no longer matter to anyone since the sword is no longer the first choice in offensive or defensive weapons.

In 1859, Marine First Lieutenant Israel Green commanded a Marine Detachment with service under Lieutenant Colonel Robert E. Lee, who was ordered to put down an insurrection at Harper’s Ferry, Virginia. As it turned out, Colonel Lee was quite pleased with the Marines’ performance at Harper’s Ferry, but Lieutenant Green was considerably less satisfied with his Mameluke Sword. On cue from a young cavalry lieutenant named James Ewell Brown Stuart, Green rushed John Brown and his men in the firehouse. Green burst through the door and cut down on the older man’s neck as hard as possible, which bent the sword almost double and did little more than irritate Mr. Brown. That would not have happened with an M1911A1 at 10 yards.

The Marine Corps prescribed a different sword for officers and NCOs in that same year — one that would cut something more resistant than a birthday cake.

Endnotes:

[1] The difference between swords and sabers is that swords are straight blade weapons, while sabers are (generally) shorter in blade length and curved.

[2] The cutlass was a relatively short-bladed slashing sword — the shorter length most suitable for shipboard action.

[3] The Mameluke Sword (style) is also worn by flag rank officers in the British Army, and for officers of major general rank in the Australian Army.

[4] Brigadier General Edwin H. Simmons (1921-2007) served with distinction in three wars, later serving as the Director, Marine Corps History and Museums, both on active duty and into retirement. He authored numerous books about the History of the Marine Corps; whatever General Simmons didn’t know about the Marine Corps probably isn’t worth knowing.

[5] Yusef no doubt felt confident that this insult would go unanswered because the U.S. Congress had been paying the Qaramanli family bribes for fifteen or so years; anyone who pays bribes deserves no respect — or so he thought.

[6] At the time, Egypt was a vassal state of the Ottoman Empire. Kourshek Ahmet Pasha was the Viceroy of Egypt.

[7] Presley and Matilda’s union was, according to sketchy accounts, not a very happy one. The O’Bannon’s were divorced in 1826, remarried in 1832, and then in 1843, Matilda was committed to an insane asylum in Lexington. Captain O’Bannon passed away in 1850. Their only child died of cholera in 1835. My guess is that if O’Bannon left the Marine Corps to marry Matilda, he later in life regretted doing so.

[8] There is evidence of Mameluke Swords in use by Europeans during the Crusades, likely taken from dead Islamists. General Simmons believed that the Mameluke Sword may have existed before the time of Christ, notably in Damascus.

At Penobscot

The first colonial resolution for creating a naval force came from Rhode Island on 12 June 1775. One old saying is that “necessity is the mother of invention.” Not that a navy was a new idea, but rather the realization that if the colonies intended to make good on their declaration of independence, they would need freedom of navigation and stout defense of the colony’s long coastline to do it. Rhode Island took this initiative because the Royal Navy’s harassment costs to that colony’s shipping were high. Two months later, Rhode Island proposed a single Continental Fleet (funded by all thirteen colonies, of course).

In October 1775, Congress passed a resolution creating the Continental Navy. It would take something more than a piece of paper to build an adequate navy, of course, and the fact is that the Continental Navy had a somewhat rough beginning. But by the early part of 1779, America’s naval effort against British shipping had a favorable impact. Privateers, particularly those working the Atlantic between New York and Nova Scotia, had become exceptionally proficient in intercepting and assaulting British cargo vessels — so well, in fact, that by the spring, the Royal Navy began escorting convoys of cargo ships to North America.

The downside of the British convoy system was that it siphoned off Royal Navy ships from other tasks. Moreover, the activities of American privateers forced the British to develop the strategy of taking shelter in protected anchorages near active sea lanes — places from which they could dispatch patrols against American raiders. The coast of Maine was especially useful in this regard because of its many estuaries, because the region contained a large number of British loyalists, and because the forested areas in Maine were a primary source of timber for American shipbuilding.[1]

General Sir Henry Clinton, Commander-in-Chief of British forces in the colonies, instructed the commander of British forces in Nova Scotia, Brigadier General Francis McLean, to establish a fortification on the Penobscot River — one capable of housing 400-500 men, with a magazine. Beyond the construction of a fortification, Clinton also instructed McLean to offer land grants to local inhabitants in exchange for their oath of loyalty to the British Crown. McLean’s regiment would consist of 400 men from the 74^th Regiment of Foot (Argyle Highlanders) and another 100 men from the King’s Orange Rangers (a loyalist regiment in New Jersey).[2]

In May 1779, General McLean decided to enlarge his force to 640 men. Four-hundred forty of these would come from the 74^th Regiment under the command of Lieutenant Colonel John Campbell, and, since the King’s Orange Rangers could not provide an additional 100 men, McLean decided to excuse the rangers from service and replace them with 200 men from his own regiment, the 82^nd.

General McLean’s convoy departed Halifax on 30 May escorted by HMS Blonde, HMS North, HMS Nautilus, HMS Albany, and HMS Hope. Pathfinders reconnoitered the banks of the Penobscot River in mid-June to find a suitable site for the fort. McLean decided on a peninsula that extends into the bay from the eastern shore known as Bagaduce. At the time of McLean’s arrival at Bagaduce, the land was covered by an evergreen forest of fir and pine. A protected bay opened to the South. For his building site, the General chose an elevated plateau near the middle of the peninsula. From that position, McLean’s cannon could command access to the bay. A thick forest obscured the river (western side) of the arm.

Once General McLean’s force and supplies had been off-loaded, he anticipated that Captain Andrew Barkley, commanding the flotilla, would leave several ships at anchor in the bay. Barkley, however, intended to withdraw all his ships except HMS Albany (under Captain Henry Mowat). An argument ensued between Barkley and McLean, which was only resolved when Barkley became aware that several American frigates operated off the coast of Halifax. Without Barkley’s flotilla, Halifax was virtually at the mercy of the American navy. Eventually, Captain Barkley permitted HMS Albany, HMS North, and HMS Nautilus to remain behind at Bagaduce along with McLean’s transport ships.

American rebels quickly learned of McLean’s landing. One rumor warned that General McLean commanded 1,500 men. Brigadier General Charles Cushing of the Massachusetts militia suggested that several county militias might be required to disengage McLean. Rebel spies kept the Council of Massachusetts regularly informed of McLean’s activities.[3] With so much reliance upon the sea for its economic welfare, it would only be a matter of time before the Americans challenged the British in Nova Scotia.

The alarmed Council of Massachusetts wasted no time in making an appeal to the Congressional Navy Board for their assistance in removing the British threat. The Navy Board advised its Marine Committee of these circumstances and tendered its recommendation that Congress order its ships to address this new British threat.

Money was tight in 1779. Even before the Marine Committee could formulate its reply, the Navy Board sent a letter back to the Massachusetts Council informing them that the Navy Board concurred with any “proper measures” Massachusetts may undertake to dislodge the enemy from Penobscot. Apparently, without saying as much, the Continental Congress thought it would be great if Massachusetts paid for the operation. Congress did offer them the services of Captain Dudley Saltonstall and four Continental Navy ships to achieve the ouster of the British garrison at Penobscot, however.

As a senior Continental Navy officer, Saltonstall would serve as commodore of Continental and Massachusetts ships.[4] Preparation for the sea began aboard the sloops Warren, Providence, and Brige. Taking a ship to sea in 1779 was difficult because recruiting experienced crews was nearly impossible. Experienced sailors preferred to serve aboard privateers where the pay was better and sea passages much safer.

On 29 June 1779, the Council of Massachusetts formed a small committee whose task was to direct the province of New Hampshire to raise a militia. The Council of New Hampshire agreed to send a 20-gun privateer, the Hampden. Hampden was armed with six and 9-pound cannon and carried a complement of 130 men. In addition to Hampden and the four Continental ships, the American flotilla would include three vessels of the Massachusetts Navy, twelve privateers paid for by Massachusetts, and several merchant ships hired to carry supplies from Boston and militia from York Lincoln, and Cumberland counties.

In addition to Continental Marines serving aboard Captain Saltonstall’s ships, the plan for the Penobscot Expedition included 1,500 militia recruited from Maine’s three southern-most counties. Unfortunately, it was no easier to recruit soldiers than it was sailors and Maine recruiters fell short of their quota by around six hundred men.

The solution to Maine’s shortage of volunteers was conscription, which netted mostly young boys, invalids, and elderly men. Without waiting for a second draft effort, Maine’s Adjutant General marched his 433 men to a rendezvous at Townsend (present-day Boothbay Harbor). The number of men drafted from York and Lincoln was also disappointing. At Townsend, militia Brigadier General Solomon Lovell, the designated commander of land forces, could only muster 873 men.

There was no time to train these men. The Council of Massachusetts wanted to assault Bagaduce before the British could complete the construction of their fort. General Lovell opted to take his small force ahead to Bagaduce while a call for more men went out to adjacent colonies. If mustered, these additional men would proceed to Bagaduce as soon as possible; if not, then Lovell would have to make do with what he had.

Small groups of transport ships and privateers rendezvoused in Nantasket Roads during mid-July. Given the primitive communications of the day, one wonders how long a ship’s captain would wait around for something to happen before losing interest. Still, by 23 July, all naval units were anchored off Townsend, and militia began boarding their transports.

Captain Saltonstall’s flotilla set sail on 24 July. He had earlier sent Tyrannicide and Hazard ahead to scout for British ships. A short distance into the Bay, Captain Williams of the Hazard dispatched Marine Second Lieutenant William Cunningham ashore to find local inhabitants who might provide valuable intelligence about enemy activities. We do not know the details of Cunningham’s scouting party; we only know that he returned with three men.

After Saltonstall arrived in Penobscot Bay on 25 July, Captain Williams dispatched Cunningham and his men to the flagship Warren to brief Commodore Saltonstall on what they’d learned. Meanwhile, through other sources, Saltonstall learned of the presence in nearby Camden of Mr. James Mills Mitchell, a man reputedly familiar with the area where the British fort was under construction. We know Saltonstall conferred with Mitchell; we simply do not know what they discussed.

After that, Captain Saltonstall ordered Lieutenant Brown, commanding Diligent, to reconnoiter the riverbank near Bagaduce. While performing this mission, Brown observed three men waving from shore to gain his attention. One of the three men reported that he had observed British activities and estimated the number of soldiers between 450-500. He said that the fort was not quite half-completed. Brown sent these men along to Warren, where they made their report to Captain Saltonstall. Lieutenant Brown had no personal knowledge of McLean’s dispositions or activities, but that didn’t prevent him from advising Saltonstall to prepare for an immediate attack. In Brown’s opinion, the fort could be “easily taken.”

Commodore Saltonstall was not easily persuaded. He remarked to Brown, “Only a madman would go in before they had reconnoitered, and it would be the height of madness even to attempt it.” Saltonstall was wisely prudent because nothing of what had been reported to him had any basis in fact. Saltonstall, for example, was told that the fort’s walls were barely three feet high when the fortification was much further along.

General McLean had either co-opted local inhabitants or pressed them into labor parties to strengthen the fort. He had mounted his cannon to support his infantry, the defensive lines had been closed, and his construction included chevaux-de-frise defensive works.[5] His shore battery firing positions had been raised to allow for firing in barbette. McLean had also stripped the cannon from the starboard side of British vessels (they were arranged in line with the port side outward), placing these cannons at various sites ashore.

In preparation for the American assault, General Lovell directed Marines and militia to probe the British line. Undercover of naval artillery from Hazard, Tyrannicide, and Sally, Lovell ordered the landing force ashore on Sunday, 25 July (the first day of hostilities). Seven American boats were able to approach the shore, but strong winds produced a severe chop in bay waters, preventing most boats from reaching shore. Seven boats did approach the beach, but intense British fire turned them back. Irregular cannonades were exchanged with minor damage to either side. Lovell canceled the attack.

The sporadic naval fire was again exchanged throughout the day on 26 July, with minor damage to either side. Still, the action did cause the British to re-position their ships further up into the harbor to tighten their defensive line.

At 18:00 on Monday, Captain Saltonstall dispatched Marine Captain John Walsh to Banks Island, where the British had established several cannon positions. Walsh secured his objective, but with no further orders, he set up defensive positions on the island and ordered his Marines to begin constructing field cannon positions from which the Americans might fire on British ships and land positions. Walsh’s landing forced the British ships to once again re-position themselves.

While Walsh led his Marines to Banks Island, Major Daniel Littlefield, commanding militia, led an assault force to seize a British position near the entrance to the Bagaduce River. While approaching the shore, a shot from British cannon landed in Littlefield’s boat, killing him and three others. General Lovell detailed a third force of men to go ashore and begin constructing a siege position. The Americans were under constant British fire throughout their effort to develop a foothold.

On Tuesday evening, a substantial disagreement developed between General Lovell, his deputy, Brigadier General Peleg Wadsworth,[6] Captain Saltonstall, and a few more senior naval commanders. Militia officers favored a vigorous naval assault against the British vessels in the harbor. If these ships could be destroyed, they argued, the land campaign would be more easily started and more likely of success on the harbor side of the peninsula. Navy officers, including Saltonstall, argued that the army and Marines should first land and overrun the fort; this would allow the American fleet to “safely destroy the British vessels.” Overrunning the fort would be easier said than done given the precipitous cliffs fronting the fort. Further complicating the discord between the naval and land commanders, several privateer captains grew impatient and circulated a petition urging Saltonstall to proceed with this operation without further delay.[7]

At this council of war, which was held aboard Warren, the Americans decided to proceed with their assault on Bagaduce. The landing force consisted of around 850 militia and 227 Marines. Eighty cannoneers served under Lieutenant Colonel Paul Revere.

Saltonstall directed that preparations for the assault begin at midnight, which achieved little more than deprive the men of sleep. His plan divided the landing force into three sections. As the senior Marine officer, Captain John Walsh would lead his men ashore on the American right. Colonel McCobb’s Lincoln County militia and LtCol Revere’s artillerists would serve in reserve. Colonel Jonathon Mitchell’s Cumberland County militia would go ashore on the American left. Once ashore, Brigadier General Wadsworth would exercise overall command of the land forces.

Loading flat bottomed boats with so many armed men was a time-consuming effort, and the men were left standing in the boats for most of the night. American naval fire began at 03:00. At first light, the landing boats began their movement to shore under the cover of a dense fog, which made the movement to shore dangerously confusing. Marines and militia began their landing at around 05:00; they were met by heavy British musket fire. Moving in small groups, the men started their climb up the precipice essentially one-handed while holding their weapons on their non-dominant hand.

Mitchell’s force encountered McLean’s 82nd Regiment. For the most part, the 82nd was composed of inexperienced soldiers, which allowed the militia to overrun them without much difficulty. On the right, Walsh confronted McLean’s more experienced men, then serving under Lieutenant John Moore.[8] While the Marines advanced with deadly resolve, Lieutenant Moore, with only twenty soldiers remaining alive, was equally tenacious in holding the line. Captain Walsh was killed, his second in command, First Lieutenant William Hamilton was severely wounded, yet the Marines continued their assault. Moore, in danger of being encircled, finally withdrew to the fort.

As the Marines regrouped, they counted their losses of 34 men, including Welsh and Hamilton. Marine First Lieutenant William Downe assumed command on the right and continued his assault. According to Downe, it looked as if General McLean was ready to concede the fort — and might have done so were it not for the fact that the Marines did not receive the naval artillery support they expected from Saltonstall. Saltonstall’s failure to support the Marines and murderous fire from the British forced Downe to assume defensive positions.

By the end of the day, the Americans had established a 180° defense and proceeded to move their artillery ashore. McLean, however, was firmly in control of Fort George. Concentrated artillery fire forced the Americans to entrench. Sleep-deprived, the militia were becoming unruly and not simply a little displeased with the navy’s lack of artillery support.

Sometime during the morning of 29 July, Commodore Saltonstall decided that it might be a good idea to construct a fortification facing the British. Captain Salter of Hampden and Captain Thomas of Vengeance would supervise the work of sixteen engineers to build the American fort. Now, if Saltonstall believed the militiamen were rowdy on 29th July, the attitude of the troops on 5 August was positively murderous. They were tired of “dicking around.”

General Lovell, commanding ground forces, sent a note to Saltonstall asking whether his ships would enter the harbor to support the land force. Everyone ashore wanted to know the answer, but Saltonstall felt it necessary to convene another series of war councils before answering. Saltonstall decided, finally, that Lovell would receive no naval support until after he had taken Fort George. At a subsequent meeting of militia officers, it was unanimously decided that if those were Saltonstall’s terms, he could bloody well take the fort himself.

For his part, General Lovell was steadfast in keeping the Massachusetts Council apprised of the progress of the Penobscot Expedition; the Council had heard nothing at all from Saltonstall. When the Council finally understood how dire the situation was at Penobscot, they requested immediate reinforcements from General Horatio Gates, who was then at Providence. Gates had no opportunity to respond to this emergency — it would have taken him far too long to recruit adequate reinforcements. In any case, by that time, the Penobscot Expedition had already fallen apart.

By 13 August, General McLean had nearly completed his fort and a British fleet, having heard of the assault on 28 July, was en route to Penobscot under the command of Admiral Sir George Collier. Lovell and his officers, no longer participating in expedition planning with the naval force, developed their own plan for assaulting the British fort. Before the operation could be implemented, however, a heavy fog set in. When it lifted, Collier’s flotilla was observed entering the lower bay with ten warships. Although fewer in number than the Americans, the British fleet was experienced, proven in warfare, and more heavily armed. Saltonstall was lucky that a rain squall appeared, followed by more fog and then darkness — but the American’s luck didn’t hold.

At first light, the British began their approach. The American ships broke and ran from the fight and headed upstream, hoping to find small inlets where they could hide. By nightfall, most American ships, including transports, had either been captured by the British or destroyed by their own crews. Most of the landing force fled through the Maine wilderness, leaving behind them on the shores of the Penobscot River the smoldering remains of the American fleet. The expedition’s survivors began filtering into Boston during the first week in September.

News of the Penobscot disaster shocked and demoralized the colony of Massachusetts. Except for the three Continental ships and one ship from New Hampshire, the Massachusetts colony agreed to indemnify the owners of its ships for any damages or losses. Including the cost of the expedition, Massachusetts added more than £4-million to its debt. Worse, Massachusetts had lost its entire navy. Someone would have to account.

Courts-martial exonerated Generals Lovell and Wadsworth of ineptitude. Commodore Saltonstall, on the other hand, was tried and found guilty of gross incompetence. A navy board determined that Saltonstall was wholly unfit to command a navy ship and stripped him of his commission.

As for the Continental Marines, their numbers being relatively small, they were never able to influence the events of the Penobscot River Expedition. They performed admirably when called upon, as evidenced by the seizure of Banks Island, and seizing the heights at Bagaduce. Still, this valor was insufficient to compensate for the navy’s failed leadership.

There are as many lessons in failure as there are from success. Despite achieving a near-victory, the Americans guaranteed their own defeat — first by failing to maintain unity of command, second by failing to develop a communications plan, third by poor operational planning, the employment of an untrained militia, and worst of all, timid senior commanders.

The cost of Penobscot was high. From a strength of around 700 soldiers and ten warships, McLean held off an American force of 3,000 (navy and militia), 19 warships, and 25 support vessels. McLean lost 86 men, killed, wounded, captured, or missing. The Americans gave up 474 killed, wounded, captured, or missing, 19 warships destroyed, and 25 support ships sunk, destroyed, or captured. General McLean retained his small settlement in Maine until the British force was withdrawn of their own accord.[9] General McLean passed away from an illness in 1781.

The United States did not seriously consider another large-scale amphibious operation until the Mexican-American War (1846-48).

Sources:

Bicheno, H. Redcoats, and Rebels: The American Revolutionary War. London: Harper Collins, 2003.
Buker, G. E. The Penobscot Expedition: Commodore Saltonstall and the Massachusetts Conspiracy of 1779. Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 2002.
Smith, C. R. Marines in the Revolution: A History of the Continental Marines in the American Revolution, 1775-1783. Washington: Headquarters, U. S. Marine Corps, 1975.

Endnotes:

[1] Maine was then known as the Eastern Provinces of Massachusetts Bay. Some historians believe that Maine might have been looked upon as a location for a new British colony — one set aside for British loyalists in American. It would be called New Ireland, and it would be located between the Penobscot and St. Croix rivers.

[2] Roughly one-third of the residents of New Jersey remained loyal to the British crown.

[3] Boston had become a center for privateering activities; McLean’s presence in Maine threatened the privateers, who were heavily invested in ships and crews.

[4] Saltonstall (1738-1796) was a descendant of Sir Richard Saltonstall and John Winthrop, who governed the Massachusetts Bay Colony in the 17^th Century. Politically well-connected in the colonies, Dudley received his commission in the Continental Navy upon the recommendations of his brother-in-law, Silas Deane, who served on Connecticut’s Naval Committee. He first commanded the flag ship of Commodore Esek Hopkins, Alfred and was responsible for hiring John Paul Jones as First Lieutenant. In 1779, Saltonstall was the senior Continental Navy officer based in Boston.

[5] The chevaux-de-frise was an anti-cavalry defense work consisting of a portable frame covered with several to many long-iron projections, spikes, or spears.

[6] Brigadier General Peleg Wadsworth (1748-1829) served as a general officer in the Massachusetts militia, district of Maine, as Adjutant General of Massachusetts, and as second in command to Brigadier Solomon Lovell during the Penobscot Expedition. He later served as a congressman from Massachusetts. He was the grandfather of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

[7] Thirty-two naval officers from 11 ships signed the petition.

[8] Later, Lieutenant-General Sir John Moore (1761-1809), also known as Moore of Corunna, was known for his tenacity in combat. During the Peninsular War, Moore repulsed the army of Marshal Soult at Corunna, giving up his life in a valiant contest of martial will.

[9] A fictionalized account of the Penobscot Expedition was the subject of Bernard Cornwall’s book entitled The Fort (published 2010).

The Road to War

U. S. Marine Corps Defense Battalions

Some Background

The Marine Corps mission, now a long tradition, is to locate, close with, and destroy the enemy by fire and maneuver, or to repel the enemy’s assault by fire and close combat. No matter what occupational specialty assigned, every Marine is a trained rifleman. Up-close and personal is how Marines fight. As an organization, the Corps has two essential purposes: (1) making Marines, and (2) winning battles.

People who seek to join the Marine Corps are already psychologically unique because every potential recruit knows what the Marine Corps will expect from them from the very beginning of their enlistment process. Knowing this, however, is insufficient. Every enlisted recruit and every officer candidate must measure up to the Corps’ uncompromising high standards. They must demonstrate that they have what it takes to serve as a US Marine. They do this either at recruit training depots or at the officer candidate school — which is where they earn the title, MARINE.

Marines are naval infantry. Between 1775-1900, Marines primarily served in ship’s detachments, navy yards, and provisional forces for expeditionary service ashore. Between 1900-1940, Marines participated in irregular warfare and counter-insurgency operations in support of American foreign policy. Conventionally, Marines served with enviable distinction in the Spanish-American War, World War I, World War II, the Korean War, the Vietnam War, and in the Middle Eastern Wars.

Organizationally, the Marine Corps is composed of its Headquarters element (Headquarters Marine Corps) (HQMC), its supporting establishments (Marine Corps Bases and Air Stations), and the Operating Forces. The Operating forces (presently) consist of three infantry divisions, three air wings, three logistical commands, and their reserve counterparts. The Marine Corps organizes its deployed forces as Marine Air-Ground Task Forces (MAGTFs), which range from battalion landing teams to reinforced infantry divisions. While war strategies are matters for senior (flag rank) officers, battlefield tactics frequently fall within the purview of Marine noncommissioned officers (NCOs).

The structure of the Marine Corps (1775-present) has been an evolutionary process. At its beginning, Congress authorized the recruitment of two Marines battalions and directed that their officers organize them for service aboard ships of war as riflemen. Historically, the size of the Marine Corps has expanded and contracted to meet the nation’s demands in times of peace and war. In the Revolutionary War period, for example, the size of shipboard detachments depended on the ship’s size to which assigned. The size of the Marine Corps depended on the missions assigned to it by Congress. Following the Revolutionary War, the new U.S. Congress determined that it could no longer afford to maintain a naval force, so both the Navy and Marine Corps disbanded between 1783-1798. The Navy and Marine Corps have continuously served the American people since 1798; their size in ships and manpower ceilings is always a matter for the Congress to decide.

Sea Change

Victory over Spain in 1898 was a pivotal event because it propelled a somewhat backwater United States onto the world stage and had a sudden and significant influence on the growth of the US Navy and Marine Corps. With victory over Spain came vast territorial acquisitions that included the Philippine Islands, Guam, Samoa, Cuba, and Puerto Rico. These were in addition to already existing US interests in Central America (Nicaragua and the Isthmus of Panama). Territorial acquisition meant that the United States would have to defend these faraway places, and the only service that could do that was the US Navy — challenges never imagined before 1898.

Realizing that the post-Civil War Navy was initially out of its depth in this new world order, the Secretary of the Navy (SECNAV) established the General Board of the Navy in 1900. The Board’s membership included the Navy’s most senior officers, men who were at the end of their careers upon whom he could rely on offering deliberate and objective analyses of world events and offering recommendations on a wide range of issues — from ship design to naval strategy and contingency planning and training. The General Board undertook the development of war plans for responding to anticipated threats against the US East Coast, the Antilles, and, eventually, the Panama Canal.

Initially, the General Board of the Navy viewed Great Britain as a “most likely” threat to American interests and sovereignty.[1] With greater allied cooperation with the United Kingdom, however, the General Board turned its attention toward Imperial Germany,[2] especially after Spain sold its Central Pacific territories to Imperial Germany and German military construction projects in the Pacific and coastal China. Japan’s victory over Imperial Russia in 1905 forced the US to consider conflict with the Japanese, as well.[3]

In late 1901, the Navy General Board demanded that (then) Major General Commandant Charles Heywood develop a four-company infantry battalion for expeditionary and advanced base defense training. The Navy Board envisioned a Marine battalion that could rapidly deploy (ship to shore) in defense of American territories as part of the Asiatic Fleet and do so without awaiting the arrival of US Army units from the United States. The writings of Captain Dion Williams, (then assigned to the Office of Naval Intelligence), emphasized the importance of the Navy’s ability to refuel its ships from Pacific coaling stations. Since it was incumbent upon the Navy to defend those advanced bases, the Navy turned to the Marine Corps for this purpose.

One achieves an understanding of warfare by reading history and then thinking about an event’s causes, its actors, what they did, why they did it, the mistakes they made, and the consequences of conflict. Learning how to prepare for war is a bit more complicated — often involving many years of trial and error. In 1907, a battalion under Major Eli K. Cole[4] participated in a training exercise in Subic Bay, the Philippine Islands. It took his Marines ten weeks to set emplace 44 heavy shore battery guns. The lesson the Marine Corps learned from this exercise pointed to the wisdom of pre-staging men and material as “rapid response” elements of the naval expeditionary forces. Cole’s exercise prompted the Navy Board to recommend establishment of permanent advanced bases within the Navy’s defensive sphere.

In 1913, Major General Commandant William P. Biddle ordered a Marine Corps Advanced Base Force. He named it the 1st Advanced Force Brigade.[5] Biddle further re-designated the Brigade’s two regiments as the Fixed Defense Regiment (under the command of Lieutenant Colonel Charles G. Long)[6] and the Mobile Defense Regiment (under Colonel George Barnett).[7]

World events temporarily interfered with the Corps’ effort to improve the Advanced Base Force concept. In 1914, the President dispatched a Marine expeditionary force to Vera Cruz, Mexico. The Marines used this event to test and validate previously developed theories;[8] these, in turn, providing essential lessons for ongoing developments in Marine Corps force structure.

During World War I, the 4th Marine Brigade operated as one of two brigades within the US Second Infantry Division. The 4th Marine Brigade consisted of the 5th Marine Regiment, 6th Marine Regiment, and the 6th Machine-gun Battalion. A fully deployed combat brigade was a significant increase in overall Marine Corps strength, but the American Expeditionary Force in Europe was not the only iron in the fire. HQMC formed an additional expeditionary brigade for service in the Caribbean and Central America during the so-called banana wars. In 1919-1920, post war reductions in funding forced the Marine Corps to disband several infantry regiments/separate battalions.

In 1921, Major General Commandant John A. Lejeune continued the work undertaken in previous decades — work that actually continues today. Each achievement, methodological or technological, becomes the foundation upon which new ideas emerge — and so it goes. In 1933, creating and perfecting the Advanced Base Force led to the creation of the Fleet Marine Forces (Atlantic and Pacific) — which became an integral part of the United States Atlantic and Pacific Fleets.

The primary mission of the Fleet Marine Force (FMF) was the seizure and temporary defense of advanced bases, in concert with US fleet operations. In the 1920s and 1930s, the United States participated in a series of naval conferences designed to reduce the likelihood of war by limiting armaments (i.e., the size of national navies). It was, at best, a romantic assumption. The US Congress began thinking defensively, prompting a significant reduction in the size of the military services. Defense is not how the Marine Corps wins battles; senior Marine officers remained focused on offensive operations and defensive thinking had no appreciable impact on the readiness planning of the Fleet Marine Force.

The vast range of US territories and the requirement to defend them continued as a vital interest to the Navy and as a primary responsibility of the Marine Corps. A formal review of responsibilities assigned to the Army and Navy, designed to avoid duplication of effort, determined that the Army should confine itself to continental land operations. The Navy should focus its attention on the security of overseas territories and possessions.

By 1937, the Navy began to consider creating Marine Corps security detachments, particularly at vulnerable locations in the Pacific, in conjunction with Plan Orange. Initially, the Navy Board envisioned security detachments as battalion-sized organizations. In 1938, the Navy Board recommended the placement of defense battalions at Midway, Wake, and Johnston Islands —in sufficient strength and size to repel minor naval raids.

Defense battalions were coastal artillery units armed with 5-inch guns (6), anti-aircraft guns (12), machine guns (48 .30 caliber) (48 .50 caliber), searchlights (6), and sound locators (6). The Battalion’s usual complement involved 28 officers and 482 enlisted men, but a battalion’s size depended on the specific size of the area the battalion was charged to defend. Once ashore, owing to the size of naval guns, the Battalion would become “immobile.” In effect, once defense battalions assumed their positions, there would be no retreat.[9]

Initially, the Marine Corps envisioned four defense battalions; their importance (in relation to the Marine Corps as a whole) was significant. Of the Corps’ total strength (27,000 officers and enlisted men), 9,000 Marines would serve as part of the Fleet Marine Force, and 2,844 of those would serve in defense battalions.

Defense battalions began to form in late 1939. By 7 December 1941, there were seven active battalions: the 1st, 2nd, 6th, and 7th formed at Marine Corps Base, San Diego, California; the 3rd, 4th, and 5th formed at Parris Island, South Carolina. The 5th Defense Battalion was the first such battalion to deploy to a potentially hostile shore.

Under the command of Colonel Lloyd L. Leech, the 5^th Defense Battalion deployed to Iceland in June 1941 as part of the 1st Marine Brigade (Provisional). In addition to the 5th Defense Battalion, the Brigade included the 6th Marines, 2nd Battalion, 10th Marines, and various other supporting units to reinforce British forces charged with blocking any German attempt to seize Iceland. To facilitate training and instruction for the American Marines, the brigade commander assented to the 5th Defense Battalion’s incorporation into the British air defense system.

Over time, it became increasingly unlikely that Germany would seize Iceland. However, while the Pacific command urgently needed the 1st Brigade, its eventual reassignment was contingent upon the arrival in Iceland US Army units to replace the Marines. Before Pearl Harbor, statutory provisions precluded the assignment of non-volunteer troops to overseas locations. Army conscripts could not serve in Iceland until a state of war existed between the United States and its adversaries. The Brigade was finally relieved by Army units in March 1942.

Of the remaining defense battalions, all but one (2nd) deployed to the Pacific before Pearl Harbor. The 2nd Defense Battalion, under Lieutenant Colonel Raymond E. Knapp, joined the 2nd Marine Brigade in Samoa in January 1942. Already serving in Samoa was the 7th Defense Battalion, under Lieutenant Colonel Lester A. Dessez.[10] The 7^th Defense Battalion was the first FMF unit to operate in the South Pacific theater of operations.

The 3rd Defense Battalion formed in late 1939. After initial training, the Battalion embarked for Pearl Harbor in April 1940. In September, the Commanding General, Fleet Marine Force, Pacific ordered elements of the Battalion to Midway Island. The entire Battalion reformed at Midway in February 1941. In September 1941, the 6th Defense Battalion replaced the 3rd Battalion at Midway, which then returned to Hawaii and participated in defense of Pearl Harbor. Also, in Hawaii on 7 December 1941, was the 1st Defense Battalion, Lieutenant Colonel Bert A. Bone, and the 4th Defense Battalion, under Colonel Harold S. Fassett.

The preceding may seem like an orderly process, but it was far from that. Moving large numbers of Marines and their heavy (and expensive) equipment is never easy, rarely tidy, and always compounded by higher headquarters. For instance, in 1939, the 1st Defense Battalion formed by renaming the 2nd Battalion, 15th Marines, and then reorganizing it, re-equipping it, and re-positioning it to serve in its new role. In February 1941, the 1st Defense Battalion arrived at Pearl Harbor from San Diego. No sooner had the Battalion arrived when higher authority split it apart into subunits and redistributed them throughout the Central Pacific. FMF Pacific (also, FMFPac) dispatched Detachment A, 1st Defense Battalion to Palmyra Island (arriving 10 March). A month later, HQMC renamed the unit “Marine Detachment, 1st Marine Defense Battalion, Palmyra Island.” Additional subunits became Marine Detachments at Johnston (mid-July) and Wake (late-July). Thus, on 7 December 1941, the 1st Defense Battalion had subunits on three atolls with their headquarters element remaining at Pearl Harbor.

By early December, Marine defense battalions defended Midway, Johnston, Palmyra, Samoa, and Wake. The global war plan, then in effect, renamed “Rainbow Five,” called for the development of air bases at all these sites. After 7 December, the United States had to concede Guam (and its small naval facility) to the Japanese owing to its position in the center of the Japanese-held Marianas Island group. The Navy’s intention behind creating these small forward bases was two-fold. Samoa would help protect communication routes in the Southwest Pacific; Midway, Johnston, Palmyra, and Wake were offered for the protection of Oahu installations. None of the forward bases provided much protection, however.

At Pearl Harbor

Japan’s attack on Pearl Harbor started at 0755 on 7 December 1941. The assault lasted two hours. The defense battalions offered limited (and generally ineffective) opposition to Japanese forces. This generally poor performance was not the fault of the defense battalions, however. Japan’s attack was a surprise event well-timed for Sunday morning. Accordingly, all US responses were haphazard.

Before the Japanese attack, the United States was already preparing for hostilities — albeit with only limited intelligence information. Hawaii-based commanders heard nothing from Washington beyond cautionary advice. Reacting with caution, senior commanders ordered all munitions secured at widely dispersed locations. Motor vehicles were carefully stored in are motor pools, berthed ships and parked aircraft were lined up neatly for ease of monitoring security — in case Japanese agents attempted to sabotage American military equipment. When the Japanese attacked, air defense positions had no ammunition with which to shoot down enemy planes. Within a few moments of the attack, air and ground commanders ordered munitions, but there were no vehicles available to transport it. By the time ammunition did arrive, the Japanese attack was over.

Within six minutes of the beginning of the Japanese attack, Marines from the defense battalion had machine guns set up and engaged the enemy. These were the only weapons used in the defense of Pearl Harbor. It was a bit too little.

Within mere hours after Japan’s attack, Navy and Marine commanders took steps to reinforce outlying island garrisons, rushing substantial numbers of Marines to Midway, Johnston, and Palmyra. These Marines and their equipment came from the 1st, 3rd, and 4th Defense Battalions. Midway’s assets included 17 Scout/Bombers, ferried to the island commander via the aircraft carrier USS Lexington. Once the ship returned to Pearl Harbor, additional flights were direct over-ocean movements. The distance from Pearl Harbor to Midway was 1,137 miles.

Guam

The situation on Guam was bleak. Lieutenant Colonel William K. McNulty’s 122 Marines (and 15 additional Marines serving on detached duty with the Guamanian Police Force) were overwhelmed by Japanese forces.

Johnston Island

Johnston Island, a spec of sand in the middle of the ocean, was too small and too close to the Hawaiian Islands to risk a land assault, but it was a tempting target. Major Francis B. Loomis, serving as the 1st Defense Battalion executive officer, was present at Johnston Island when the Japanese made their move against Pearl Harbor. As the senior officer present, Loomis assumed overall command of American military assets.

The first contact the Johnson Island Marines had with the Japanese occurred on 12 December when a submarine surfaced 8,000 yards off Sand Island and began firing green star clusters, which exploded high overhead. Marines returned fire with a 5-inch gun, and the submarine withdrew. Three days later, two Japanese ships opened fire and damaged several buildings and an oil storage facility. Again, the Marines answered with a 5-inch gun, and the enemy ships withdrew before suffering any damage. On the nights of 18, 21, and 22 December, enemy submarines returned to deliver harassing fire. By the end of the month, reinforcements arrived from Hawaii, adding another 5-inch battery, another 3-inch battery, and 16 more machine guns —but the Marines heard no more from the Japanese for the duration of the war.

Palmyra Island

Palmyra Island experienced a single Japanese attack on 24 December. A Japanese submarine surfaced 3,000 yards offshore and fired its deck guns at a dredge in the lagoon. The 5-inch battery drove the submarine away. Lieutenant Colonel Bone, commanding the 1st Defense Battalion, arrived with reinforcements at the end of December. The Palmyra garrison became 1st Defensive Battalion in March. Spreading Marines all over the Central Pacific had the effect of diminishing unit cohesiveness within the defense battalions. To solve this problem, local commands absorbed the various “detachments” into their organizations.

Wake Island

By mid-December world attention was focused on events unfolding at Wake Island. The unfolding battle electrified everyone. On 7 December 1941, the Wake Island detachment totaled barely 400 officers and men, including 9 officers and 200 enlisted men who had only joined the detachment in the previous month. The detachment commander was Major James P. S. Devereux. The Island’s air support squadron included 12 F4F-3 Wildcats of Major Paul A. Putnam’s VMF-211 detachment, which arrived on 4 December.[11] Putnam reported to Devereux, who reported to the Island Commander, Commander Winfield S. Cunningham, USN.

There were no optimists among the Marines of Wake Island. Devereux’s detachment was understrength; one battery of 3-inch guns was completely unmanned. Two other batteries could field only three of four guns (each), and Echo Battery had no height-finding equipment. Ground and anti-air crew-served weapons were only half manned. The detachment had no radar and no sound-locator equipment. By the time Wake Marines learned of the Japanese attack at Pearl Harbor, VMF-211’s dawn patrol was already aloft. Putnam dispersed his remaining aircraft, and the detachment’s Marines manned their posts.

Shortly before noon on 8 December (Wake Island was in a different date-time-zone from Hawaii), 36 Japanese bombers attacked Wake Island, their bomb load mostly hitting the airstrip where seven of the eight parked Wildcats were destroyed, exploding aviation gas storage tanks, and killing 23 of the 55 enlisted aviation ground crewmen. The bombers returned each day for the next six days, always at the same time of day. Each day, the Japanese inflicted more damage and took more lives. At 0300 on 11 December, a Japanese assault force appeared offshore. Warships moved in after dawn to begin raking fire prelude to troop landings. By 0615, the Marines had severely damaged the cruiser Yubari and sunk the destroyer Havate. Additionally, Marines damaged a light cruiser, two destroyers, and a troop transport. The Japanese withdrew to Kwajalein Island.

In the following week, Marines lost an additional three aircraft to Japanese bombers, half their trucks, and engineering equipment, most of their diesel fuel and dynamite, and the motor pool, warehouse, machine shop, and the blacksmith shop was wholly destroyed. The Japanese destroyed the last two Wildcats on 22 December during aerial combat. By this time, the Marines at Wake Island were running a pool on their expected shelf-life.

At dawn on 23 December, another Japanese assault force appeared offshore. One-thousand Imperial Japanese Army and 500 Imperial Japanese Navy prepared to land on Wake Island. Marines engaged the first wave of Japanese at 0245, but none of the 5-inch guns were able to take destroyers/transports under fire. The 3-inch guns inflicted some damage, but not enough to hinder the landing. Lacking any infantry support, overwhelming Japanese forces pushed the Marines back to secondary defensive positions. Gun crews, in defending themselves, had to forsake the big guns. By 0500, the Marines realized that the dance was about over. At dawn, enemy carrier-based fighters and bombers arrived overhead. Devereux advised Cunningham that he could no longer maintain organized resistance. With Cunningham’s concurrence, Devereux surrendered his force to the Japanese landing force commander.

The story of Wilkes Island unfolded differently, however. At Wilkes, the battle raged so fiercely that at daybreak, Captain Wesley Mc. Platt[12] not only destroyed the Japanese landing party after the initial Japanese assault, but he also reorganized his men and ordered a ruthless counterattack, killing every Japanese soldier he could find, one after another. Captain Platt was out of contact with Devereux and did not know of the surrender until around 1330 when Platt saw Devereux approaching a Japanese officer. Platt was not a happy camper, but he obeyed Major Devereux’s order to relinquish his arms to the Japanese.

Midway

Admiral Yamamoto’s plan for seizing Midway Island was typically complex.[13] He also based his assumptions on faulty intelligence. He believed that only two aircraft carriers were available to the Pacific Fleet after the Battle of the Coral Sea in May 1942. After the repair of USS Yorktown, the Navy had three carriers: Enterprise, Hornet, and Yorktown. He also misread the morale of the US Armed Forces and the general American population. Admiral Yamamoto was a crafty fellow, but he did not know that the Americans had broken the naval code. The key for the Americans was learning that the Japanese designation of Midway Island was JN-25.

Lieutenant Colonel Harold D. Shannon ordered his 6th Defense Battalion to “general quarters” as soon as he learned of the Japanese attack at Wake Island. It was a sensibly prudent order, but its effect was that it kept his Marines on edge for an extended period. No action developed that day, but shortly after dark, the Japanese destroyers Akebono and Ushio arrived offshore. Their mission was to harass the Island’s defenders and determine the placement of Marine shore batteries. Two Japanese rounds hit the Island’s power plant and disrupted the communications center.[14] As the two ships set up for their second run into the beach, Shannon ordered his Marines to engage enemy targets at will. Battery A’s 5-inch guns remained silent due to the break down in communications, but Battery B and Battery D opened up with their 5-inch naval artillery and 3-inch anti-aircraft guns. The .50 caliber machine-guns fired once the destroyers were within range. The Japanese ships withdrew shortly afterward.

Reinforcements and resupply soon arrived from Hawaii. Among the heavy weapons were 7-inch guns removed from World War I ships that had been in storage for many years. Midway Island was well-armed and adequately manned to repel an enemy assault; the American defenders responded to several Japanese probing raids early in 1942. Aviation assets at Midway included both Navy and Marine Corps combat aircraft. The Navy had four PBY squadrons (31 Patrol planes), and six Grumman TBF Avengers from VT-8. Marine Corps aircraft included Scout/Bomber squadron VMSB-231 (17 SB2U-3 Vindicators), and the remainder of VMF-221 (arriving at Midway from USS Saratoga with 14 F2A-3 Brewster Buffaloes). Following the Battle of the Coral Sea, the Pacific Fleet quickly replaced lost aircrews with additional Navy and Marine Corps air squadrons.

In May 1942, FMFPac reinforced the 6th Defense Battalion with three additional 3-inch batteries, a 37-mm anti-aircraft battery, a 20-mm anti-aircraft battery, and two rifle companies from the 2nd Raider Battalion with five light tanks in direct support. FMFPac ordered all Marine aircraft at Midway consolidated under Marine Aircraft Group (MAG)-22. The MAG received 16 SMD-2 Dauntless Diver Bombers and seven Grumman Wildcat fighters.

As the Battle of Midway Island began on 4 June 1942, it became apparent that the defense of the atoll was of secondary importance to the air engagements at sea, but Midway was the bait that had drawn Yamamoto’s task forces within range of US carrier aircraft. The Marines ashore were, however, ready for any eventuality. PBYs from Midway first spotted Japanese naval units at 0900 on 3 June. Army B-17s launched that afternoon to bomb the Japanese fleet, but none of the bombs hit their targets. At 0545 on 4 June, Navy PBYs fixed an approaching air assault position consisting of over 100 Japanese torpedo, dive bombers, and escort fighters (numbers estimated). US aircraft were in the air within ten minutes to intercept them. Japanese Zeros easily destroyed Marine buffaloes, but not without losing several bombers and fighters of their own. The survivors arrived over Midway at around 0630. The Japanese attacked lasted thirty minutes. Marine anti-air defenses claimed ten kills and seemed anti-climactic, but Japan’s air assault was what the Navy fleet commander wanted. As these planes returned to their carriers, US aircraft followed them.

The Battle of Midway’s significance was that it signaled the end of the United States’ defensive war and the beginning of America’s offensive. In these early days of a long war, the Defense Battalions’ Marines had played their role and contributed to the war effort. With the arrival of additional Marines, most of whom had enlisted after the attack on Pearl Harbor, many found their way into the Defense Battalions. By the end of 1942, the Marine Corps had 14 defense battalions. Two years later, there were twenty such battalions.

Guadalcanal and beyond

The assault of Guadalcanal was the first American land offensive in the Pacific war. The 3rd Defense Battalion provided support to the 1st Marine Division’s landing. The landing force commander split the Battalion to support simultaneous operations at Guadalcanal and Tulagi. The Battalion’s machine-gun sections and 90-mm anti-aircraft guns[15] went ashore in the first assault waves. Similarly, the 9th Defense Battalion supported the assault on the Munda Peninsula in July 1943. By this time, defense battalions employed 155-mm and 40-mm guns. On Vella Lavella, the 4th Defense Battalion’s 90-mm gun was the Japanese pilot’s worst nightmare. Both the 9th and 14th Defense Battalion went ashore with the landing forces at Guam in 1944. When Japanese aircraft were no longer capable of threatening Marine occupied terrain, senior officers decided that the battalions had served their purpose. HQMC disbanded most defense battalions after the war —but one (sort of) remains today. One Marine responsibility at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, is to defend the naval base. This mission is similar to that of the World War II-era defense battalion.

Sources:

Cole, E. K. Advanced Base Force Training. Philadelphia: 1915.
Davis, H. C. Advanced Place Training. Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1911.
Jackson, R. H. History of the Advanced Base. Records of the General Board of the Navy, 1913.
Jackson, R. H. The Naval Advanced Base. Records of the General Board of the Navy, 1915.
McBride, W. M. Technological Change and the United States Navy, 1865-1945. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2001.
Millett, A. R. Semper Fidelis: The History of the United States Marine Corps. New York: The Free Press, 1991.
Simmons, E. H. The United States Marines: A History. Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1974.

Endnotes:

[1] Incorporated as War Plan Red.

[2] Incorporated as War Plan Black.

[3] Incorporated as War Plan Orange.

[4] Eli Kelley Cole (1867-1929) graduated from the US Naval Academy in 1888, served as a naval officer for two years, and transferred to the US Marine Corps in 1890. In 1915, Cole, Williams, Earl H. Ellis, John H. Russell, and Robert H. Dunlap were the Marine Corps’ deepest thinkers. While commanding the 1st Provisional Brigade in Haiti, he received the Navy Cross Medal. He later commanded the US Army’s 41st Infantry Division during World War I, and served as the first Assistant Commandant of the Marine Corps. He passed away while still serving on active duty.

[5] The forebear of the 1st Marine Division.

[6] Designated 2nd Regiment, Advance Base Brigade on 18 February 1914 (today, 1st Marines).

[7] Designated 1st Regiment, Advance Base Brigade on 18 February 1914 (today, 2nd Marines).

[8] Fleet exercises were important rehearsals in the development of amphibious warfare and the establishment of advanced base defenses, including the art and science of loading/un-loading ships, transfer of equipment from ship to shore, employment of shore artillery, signal science, combat engineering, harbor construction/defense, and the employment of automatic weapons.

[9] See also, Wake Island (in three parts).

[10] Colonel Dessez’ also formed and trained the 1st Samoan Battalion (infantry) (territorial reserve).

[11] One of Putnam’s flight officers was Captain Frank C. Tharin, a graduate of the US Naval Academy (1934). While serving on Wake Island, Tharin distinguished himself through his courage and aeronautical skill against overwhelming Japanese air forces. He was a recipient of the Distinguished Flying Cross, Silver Star Medal, and two Air Medals. Tharin spend the war in a Japanese POW camp. I worked for LtGen Tharin in 1968 at a time when Tharin served as the Operations Deputy to the Commandant of the Marine Corps. General Tharin passed away in 1990.

[12] Wesley McCoy Platt survived the war as a POW. The United States subsequently awarded him the Silver Star Medal, Legion of Merit, and Purple Heart Medal. During the Korean War, Colonel Platt died of wounds while serving on the staff of Major General Oliver P. Smith, USMC, who commanded the 1st Marine Division at the Chosin Reservoir.

[13] Warfare is by its nature complex; overly complicated war plans simply increase the likelihood of failure at critical moments of the battle.

[14] First Lieutenant George H. Cannon, a communications officer, received severe wounds from Japanese guns but he refused evacuation until the communications center was once more up and running. Cannon died shortly afterwards. He received the Medal of Honor posthumously, the first Marine to receive the nation’s highest medal during World War II.

[15] The round of the 90-mm gun weighed 23 pounds. It had a maximum range of 39,500 feet.

Those Other Marines

America’s naval war with Great Britain lasted eight years, and while the Continental Congress did establish and direct this war, most of the fighting involved fleets that originated with the colonies/states. All the American colonies owned and operated fleets of ships and deployed them independent from those of the Continental Navy. On 9 September 1776, the Continental Congress formally declared the name of the new nation the United States of America. This replaced the term “United Colonies,” which had until then been in general use. After 9 September, the colonies were referred to as States.

The largest state fleets belonged to Massachusetts, Connecticut, Maryland, Virginia, and South Carolina. Only two states had no armed ships: New Jersey and Delaware. New Hampshire had one armed ship, and Georgia operated four galleys. In total, the number of armed state vessels exceeds those of the Continental Navy by a large number. They weren’t huge ships, of course —only a few were suitable for deep-water engagements —because the purpose of the state navies was to defend coasts, ports, and harbors— the main source of state economies. Offensive warfare was a secondary concern that focused, again, defending states from British commerce-destroying operations.

Perhaps typical of these state navies was the Maryland Navy and Corps of Marines. Throughout the Revolutionary War, British barges plundered and harassed farmers living on the Maryland and Virginia Eastern Shore creeks. By 1782, Maryland had had enough and in the interest of defending local interests, commissioned Zedekiah Whaley to serve as Maryland’s Commodore. His mission was to clear the Chesapeake Bay of the British threat.

On 14 January 1776, the Maryland legislature authorized a company of Marines, whose pay was less than that paid to Continental Marines —roughly $5.50/month. Maryland paid for their initial uniform, but replacement items (shirts, shoes, stockings) were deducted from their pay. Maryland lawmakers further determined that the uniform of land forces and Marines should differ from those of their sailors. Marines wore blue uniforms.

Maryland Navy Captain George Smith assumed command of Defence in late 1776. Her first voyage to the West Indies resulted in the capture of five small prizes laden with logwood, mahogany, indigo, rum, and sugar. The Royal Navy would no doubt consider such activities as piracy, but ships at sea were fair targets for colonial navies; economically, they were struggling to survive. Onboard Defence were 4 Marine officers, 3 sergeants, 3 corporals, 1 drummer, and 34 privates.

Maryland’s vessels were mostly galleys or barges armed with one or two medium-sized guns, crews of from 65-80 men. Defence was Maryland’s largest ship (constructed in Baltimore). Maryland’s emphasis on galleys led to the need for men to crew them and for the organization of small detachments of Marines for galley service. The duties of Marines serving aboard galleys differed from those assigned to sloops or frigates.

The galley Baltimore had three appointed Marine officers before there were any privates because Maryland men would sooner serve in the land army than aboard ship. Beyond the paucity of available men to serve in Maryland’s navy, the cost of building and maintaining ships was prohibitive. In 1777, the Maryland legislature authorized the sale of Defence —it’s discharged Marines encouraged to join Maryland’s field artillery units. By 1779, Maryland retained only three ships: the galleys Conqueror, and Chester, and the schooner Dolphin. But because the British Royal Navy forced Maryland to defend communities along the Chesapeake Bay shore, in 1780, the Maryland legislature authorized the construction of four large barges, a galley, and either a sloop or a schooner. The act included …

“That a company of one-hundred men be immediately raised to serve as Marines on board said galley and sloop or schooner, and occasionally on board the said barges or rowboats; and that the governor and council be authorized and requested to appoint and commission one captain, and two lieutenants to command the said company of Marines, and to direct such officers to procure by enlistment as soon as possible the said number of healthy, able-bodied men, including two sergeants and two corporals, to serve in such company for the term of three years, unless sooner discharged.”

Maryland offered its Marines, as payment, £2.05 monthly, and a bounty of $40.00. It should come as no surprise that the company was not raised until 1782. Maryland did not fare much better with its recruitment of healthy seamen; they were unable to raise 250 sailors until 1783. None of this, however, diminishes the fighting spirit of Maryland patriots.

The Marine captain’s commission went to a gentleman named Levin Handy. Handy previously served as a lieutenant in the 4th Maryland Battalion in 1776 and then as a captain of the 5th Maryland Battalion. Handy was appointed to serve on the barge Protector on 3 August 1782.

Commodore Whaley, in command of a flotilla of four sail and oar-driven barges, spotted the enemy in Tangier Sound. Determining that the British forces were too strong for his lightly manned barges, he sailed into Onancock Creek on 28 November and asked Lieutenant Colonel John Cropper to assist him with volunteers to man his barges. Cropper gathered up three officers and 25 local men and boarded Whaley’s flagship (Protector). Setting out to confront the British, Whaley ordered an attack in the area between Smith and South Marsh islands. Closing to within 300 yards, Whaley’s force encountered heavy cannon and musket fire. Three barges turned away, leaving Protector alone to fight the British.

Protector pressed on. Gunpowder aboard the barge exploded, killing four men, others abandoned ship to avoid the flames. A musket ball killed Commodore Whaley. In hand to hand combat, Colonel Cropper[1] was badly wounded. Overwhelmed by British Marines, Protector struck her colors and surrendered. Survivors were taken prisoner but released to return to their homes on 3 December. According to an account of the Battle of the Barges, Colonel Cropper wrote …

“Commodore Whaley was shot down a little before the enemy boarded [Protector], acting the part of a cool, intrepid, gallant officer. Captain Joseph Handy fell nigh the same time, nobly fighting with one arm after the loss of the other. Captain Levin Handy was badly wounded. There went into action in the Protector sixty-five men; twenty-five of them were killed and drowned, twenty-nine were wounded, some of which are since dead, and eleven only escaped being wounded, most of whom leaped into the water to save themselves from the explosion.”

State Marines generally were stationed aboard vessels operating in coastal waterways, but one company of Marines raised in 1782 was an exception. Major General George Rogers Clark[2] was tasked with maintaining control over the Ohio Valley. With few men at his disposal, Clark devised several clever schemes which gave him the best possible control over a large area with limited human resources. One scheme was establishing strong posts at key locations; the other was using armed galleys or gondolas to control the waterways.

Clark had the full support of Virginia governor Benjamin Harrison; what he did not have was the support of Virginia’s treasury. The governor wanted several river vessels but only offered up £50 to pay for them; General Clarke would have to pay the rest of it out of pocket[3]. In early 1782, Clark reported two vessels ready for service and a third on the blocks. Of the two gondolas, they were unsuccessful because they were vulnerable to ambush along the shoreline. The third vessel was unusual in several ways: she would have a 73-foot keel designed for navigation on the Ohio River. Her gunwales were four feet high and thick enough to stop arrow or bullet, and she had 46 oars and large enough to accommodate 110 men. She carried a 6-pounder, six 4-pounders, and one 2-pounder. This boat’s construction costs were £2 per day paid in Spanish currency.

It was no easy task to raise a company of Marines in 1782, so General Clarke authorized the recruitment of a company of Virginia State Marines. Clark selected Jacob Pyeatt as captain, whose experience was that of a commissary officer with the Illinois regiment since 1778. Pyeatt’s Marines would serve for six months. When mustered, the company numbered twenty enlisted men and Lieutenant William Biggs. Most of these men were discharged veterans who re-entered military service on the promise of £10 per month and suitable clothing. In total, the company consisted of one captain, one lieutenant, two carpenters, three sergeants, and fifteen privates.

Rogalia (a shortened form of “row galley”). The galley’s summer patrol of the Ohio River caused a stir among the Shawnee Indians, who assumed that Clark was preparing for an attack. Two British officers from Fort Detroit gathered an Indian army of nearly 1,000 braves intending to raid Wheeling (present-day West Virginia) and were en route there when they received word of Clark’s Marines. It was enough to cause the Indians to break off their march to defend their homeland. Rogalia helped defend the frontier even though she had a short life. Rogalia sank near Bear Grass on 1 September 1782 and Clark’s Marines were transferred to the Illinois regiment. The state Marines never made a major contribution to the Revolutionary War, they did make a small contribution in their unique way.

But there were still other Marines …

In the 19th Century, a privateer was a private person or ship that engaged in maritime warfare under a commission of war. Since robbery under arms was a common aspect of seaborne trade, all merchant ships were armed. A sovereign or delegated authority issued commissions (also, letters of marque) during wartime. These letters of marque empowered the holder to carry on all forms of hostility permissible at sea by the usages of war. This included attacking foreign vessels and taking them captive (prizes), seizing the crews as prisoners for exchange. Captive skips were subject to sale at auction with the proceeds divided by percentage between the privateer’s sponsors, shipowners, captains, and crews. The crews included private Marines.

During the Revolutionary War, there were thousands of privateers —some of these commissioned by the Continental Congress, which added to the total of ships opposing the Royal Navy. The fact that there were so many privateers in the service of the Continental Navy so early in the war suggests a level of preparedness for war seldom discussed by historians. At times, these privateers were the sole source of disrupting British lines of communication and supply lines. Their work brought millions of pounds of essential stores and war materials to the Americans while capturing or destroying British ships of war. On 23 March 1776, the Continental Congress authorized privateering. In less than a fortnight, Congress had approved the form of commissions for privateers and dispatched copies to the colonies, there to be issued to bonded privateer officers.

We do not know how many “privateer” Marines served in such a capacity, but it is likely in the thousands. Over the years, historians have referred to these men as “gentlemen sailors” and “soldiers,” but their correct title, based on their duties aboard ship, was Marine. We do know that recruiting for privateers was easy because the inducements were superior to those of the Continental or State navies. Since their mission was to destroy commerce, there were few restrictions on behavior, larger profits, and much higher pay. Privateers did help the Continental Congress achieve its mission, but they also hindered the regular naval service. First, men preferred privateer service to that of the Continental or State navy, which meant fewer able seamen available to serve on US vessels. By 1779, it was bad enough to require a Congressional embargo on privateer recruitments.

Who were these “privateer” Marines? They came from all walks of life. They were lawyers, physicians, army officers, politicians, merchants, and ministers of the gospel. All these kinds of men served as Marines on privateers. When Revenge was captured by the privateer Belle Poole, one of the Revenge’s Marines was discovered to be a woman. What drew men away from their professions (and traditional roles) was good pay and the bounty they received from their seafaring activities, and perhaps their sense of adventure. What we know is that the life of a privateer was fraught with battles, daring raids, and stormy seas. The historic record is slim, as most ship’s logs have long ago disappeared and journals and diaries from the period are few and far between, but we know enough to conclude that their exciting life did have a bearing on the outcome of the Revolutionary War.

Let us not assume that privateers prioritized any service beyond their own; British loyalists were privateers, as well. In 1782, Delaware Bay was infested with privateer barges and galleys, manned by loyalists, which preyed upon Philadelphia’s commerce. When Congress refused to act, John Willcocks, a Philadelphia merchant, took it upon himself to defend his commercial interests by fitting out a ship named Hyder Ally and operate her under a letter of marque. Selected to captain the ship was an obscure Continental Navy lieutenant, recently released from British captivity, by the name of Joshua Barney[4].

The 23-year-old Barney, operating with two other privateers, provided escort to a fleet of merchantmen. Near Cape May, the privateers encountered the 32-gun HMS Quebec (a frigate) under Captain Christopher Mason, the 24-gun HMS General Monk, (a sloop of war) under Captain Josias Rogers, and a loyalist privateer named Fair American (a brig) captained by Silas Talbot. Hyder Ally was armed with sixteen 6-pound guns; her escorts Charming Sally and General Greene were armed with ten and twelve guns, respectively.

On the evening of 7 April 1782, Barney’s convoy went to anchor due to a failing wind. Espied by Mason, the British squadron prepared to attack the merchantmen on the next morning, focusing on Hyder Ally because she was the largest ship and therefore the most formidable. The Americans were unaware of a British presence until the next morning. Barney ordered the merchantmen to escape further into the bay under the protection of General Green and Charming Sally, while he engaged the British. General Green ignored Barney and prepared for battle; Charming Sally went aground and was abandoned by her crew, and the merchantmen sallied along the shoreline for protection.

While HMS Quebec stood off in the bay, ostensibly to keep the Americans from escaping, HMS General Monk and Fair American advanced. Barney turned about as if to flee, a tactic he used to draw Captain Rogers closer. Talbot opened the battle at noon with two broadsides into Barney, which while accurate, had little effect. Barney kept his gun ports closed, faking a withdrawal, Talbot broke off to engage General Greene which then turned about to fake his withdrawal, but went aground. In his zeal for action, Captain Talbot began to pursue Greene, but he too went aground, sustaining significant damage to his hull.

Captain Rogers slowed his pursuit of Barney long enough to lower a boat to seize Sally. When within range of Barney, Rogers called out for Barney to heave-to. Barney answered with a broadside of grape canister, which had a terrible effect on the deck crew and British Marines. The only guns available to Rogers were his bow swivel guns, which had little effect on Hyder Ally. Barney unleashed a second broadside. Rogers maintained his pursuit and when in position, he answered Barney with a broadside of his own, but when he fired, General Monk’s guns ripped away from the deck and flipped over. The two ships were side by side and Barney ordered his gunners to reload but to hold fire until his command. Barney turned “hard a-port” to deceive Rogers further, who followed suit. Then Barney turned to starboard, colliding with Monk and becoming entangled with her rigging. Barney’s crew quickly lashed the ships together, and when fast, Barney ordered his broadside. It was a devastating assault. Barney’s Marines then began delivering withering fire onto Monk’s deck. Within thirty minutes, Rogers was wounded, all his officers were killed, and a midshipman struck Monk’s colors.

HMS Quebec withdrew without engagement.

Much of Barney’s success against General Monk was the result of his privateer Marines, most of whom signed on from Buck County rifleman under Captain Skull, but there is no doubt that Joshua Barney was a skilled seaman and a tenacious fighter. Within a few years, privateer and state navies and Marines passed from the scene, but we should remember them today as “those other Marines.”

Sources:

Brewington, M. V. The Battle of Delaware Bay, 1782. Annapolis: U. S. Naval Institute Press, 1939.
Burgess, D. R. Jr., The Politics of Piracy: Crime and Civil Disobedience in Colonial America. New Hampshire: University Press of New England, 2014.
Coggeshall, G. History of the American Privateers and Letters of Marque. New York: Evans Publishers, 1856.
Thomson, J. E. Mercenaries, pirates, and sovereigns. New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1994.

Endnotes:

[1] By every account, John Cropper (1755-1821) was a courageous, battle tested warrior. He accepted his first commission in 1776 as a captain in command of a shore company of the 9th Virginia Regiment and served under General Washington at Morriston that year. In 1777, he was promoted to major and appointed to command the 7th Virginia at Brandywine where he received a bayonet wound to the thigh. In 1778, he was promoted to Lieutenant Colonel and placed in command of the 11th Virginia, participating in the Battle of Monmouth. He was quartered with troops at Valley Forge where he established a close friendship with General Washington. He returned to his home in 1779 to protect his family against British shore raiders. Having moved his wife and children to a safer location, Cropper raised and commanded a shore battery of several 4-pound guns on Parramore and Cedar islands; his battery was instrumental in the sinking HMS Thistle Tender and a companion ship responsible for raiding his community.

[2] The older brother of William Rogers Clark of the Lewis & Clark Expedition fame.

[3] George Rogers Clark died destitute, in large measure because the government of Virginia and Continental Congress refused to pay him what they owed him.

The West Florida Expedition

American history is quite fascinating —I would say even more so than the revisionist accounts offered in our public schools and universities over the past sixty years. Two of my interests are the colonial and early founding periods of the United States. History isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, of course, but there is so much we can learn from it —lessons that would positively contribute to modern society. Ut est rerum omnium magister usus[1], and if true, if experience is the teacher of all things, then our learning from past mistakes can only aid us in the future.

One of the things I find interesting about the American Revolutionary War is how little attention historians have paid to the British loyalists. After all, they too were part of that story.

1763 was a banner year for the British because, in that year, England finally triumphed over France after fighting one another to a standstill since 1689. In the Treaty of Paris of 1763, England acquired Spanish Florida and French Canada. British divided Florida into two provinces: West and East Florida. West Florida included the southern half of present-day Mississippi, a rectangular region straddling the Gulf of Mexico from Lake Pontchartrain and Maurepas and the Mississippi River in the west, to the Chattahoochee and Apalachicola rivers on the east. It extended northward to an imaginary line running east from the confluence of the Mississippi and Yazoo rivers, including the old Spanish port of Pensacola and the former French settlements of Mobile, Biloxi, and Natchez.

In the late 1760s, West Florida was sparsely settled because, except for a narrow strip of land along the eastern bank of the Mississippi River, the soil was unsuitable for agriculture, which led settlers to rely on raising livestock. The British anticipated settling West Florida effortlessly and for reasons of security, they reserved the area west of the Appalachian Mountains for Indians. British policy at that time intended to avoid confrontations with the Indians by channeling white settlers either to Canada or to one of the two Florida settlements. The British also decided to offer land to members of the British court as a reward for faithful military service. As an example, 40,000 acres were set aside for the Earl of Eglinton near the Natchez and Pensacola settlements. An untended consequence of land grants to noblemen was that they almost immediately began selling these lands, and by every measure, they were quite successful in doing so.

The British accorded settlers of lesser rank, 100 acres to the head of household and 50 acres for each member of his family, including slaves. The head of a family could also purchase an additional 1,000 acres for a reasonable price —but clear title to this land was withheld until the settlers had cultivated their land for three to five years. The settlement of West Florida increased steadily, especially in the Natchez area, until in 1773 when the foreign office inexplicably canceled the governor’s authority to grant land.

In 1775, with the outbreak of the American Revolution, the situation in West Florida changed rapidly. Both Florida provinces were converted into sanctuaries for British loyalists escaping from colonial terrorists. After 1775, West Florida enjoyed its greatest period of growth, an attraction among sturdy pioneers of Englishmen and Scotsmen.

Who were the loyalists, and why weren’t they interested in freedom from Great Britain? They were generally older people, conservative by nature, well-established in the colonies with long-standing business interests in England. Older people tend to resist change and the Revolutionary War period was nothing at all if not an era of momentous changes. In the minds of British loyalists, a rebellion was not only morally wrong but also unwarranted.

Taxation without representation was a key issue at the outset of the American Revolution. Parliamentary taxation affected everyone, including loyalists. There was no overwhelming repudiation of taxes among the loyalists because, in the first instance, Parliament had the right to tax colonists. Second, the colonists had long benefitted from the security provided by the British Army. Among loyalists, it was entirely reasonable that Parliament expected colonists to help pay for the costs of maintaining these forces. The loyalists also had no objection to “quartering soldiers in private homes.” These were young men from back home who had come to America to protect British citizens from the ravages of the French and Indian attacks, why not give them a nice place to sleep? Besides, which would be cheaper (tax-wise)? Quartering soldiers in the homes of citizens, or constructing barracks for the same purpose? Since everyone benefitted from these tax levies, why object to them? Of course, the British Parliament could have addressed this issue with greater sophistication, but the British people (especially those living in England) were used to an authoritarian legislature.

When the so-called “American patriots” resorted to violence against the Crown and those who remained loyal to Great Britain, the older, conservative, well-settled colonists felt alienated —and with good reason. The patriots burned down their homes, torched their businesses, and physically and verbally assaulted them. In many ways, patriot behavior was more like that of hooligans and domestic terrorists than of good neighbors with interesting ideas about government and society[2].

Many loyalists, at least initially, were fence-sitters. Among those, optimists who believed that if there was to be a separation from the mother country, it should take place naturally and amicably, under circumstances mutually beneficial to both sides of the Atlantic. Some pessimists believed that the only possible result of revolutionary thought and action would be chaos, corruption, and mob rule[3]. In either case, when patriots began terrorizing them, they either became apathetic to the cause, or they moved even further to the right. Some returned to England, others decided to stay in the colonies and fight for their King. In New York, many loyalists were part of influential families, some of these with unmistakable ties to the French Huguenot-Dutch De Lancey[4] faction supporting the British Crown. There were also “black” loyalists —slaves who had been promised freedom from slavery by the British government. Colonial patriots made no such promises, from any quarter —north or south.

There were many prominent families among American patriots[5]. One of these was the family of a man named James Willing … a wealthy Philadelphia family. His father Charles twice served as Philadelphia’s mayor; his mother was Anne Shippen, the granddaughter of Philadelphia’s second mayor. James’ older brother was a merchant, a business partner with Robert Morris[6], and a delegate to the Continental Congress from Pennsylvania. In his younger years, James sought his fortune in British West Florida operating a general store within the Natchez settlement. The folks of Natchez were happy to live in America, but they were loyalists —and intensely so. Willing, not being able to share those sentiments, and being rudely vocal about it, soon decided to return to Philadelphia[7].

In 1777, serving as a congressional spokesman, Willing returned to Natchez to convince the residents there to join the American independence movement. His proposals rebuffed, he returned to Philadelphia with greatly exaggerated claims that the people of West Florida posed a serious threat to the cause of American independence, although he was probably right in thinking that loyalists would interrupt trade on the Mississippi River, a major source of colonial resupply.

Oliver Pollock, meanwhile (an Irish-born colonist with many years devoted to trading with the Spaniards in the West Indies), established a close working relationship with Alejandro O’Reilly[8] and other Spanish-Louisiana officials. Granted the privilege of free trade with New Orleans, Pollock became a successful businessman, married, and raised his family there. In 1777, Pollock was appointed Commercial Agent of the United States in New Orleans. He used his influence and wealth to help finance American operations in the west, including the campaign by Major General (militia) George Rogers Clark[9]. In September 1778, Pollock introduced Colonel David Rogers and Captain Robert Benham to Louisiana Governor Bernardo de Gálvez. Rogers delivered a letter to Governor Gálvez from Virginia patriot Patrick Henry —a letter that led to Spain to join the war against England. In the British view, there could be no better example of treason than that.

In 1778, James Willing was calling himself a naval captain[10] in the service of the United Independent States of America[11] Pollock received a letter from Robert Morris stating that Willing would be leading an expedition against loyalist settlements above New Orleans. In his capacity as a naval captain, Willing led 29 men of the 13th Virginia Regiment from Fort Pitt and sailed down the Ohio River[12]. Willing’s mission may have been more on the order of moving supplies from New Orleans to Fort Pitt than it was conquering West Florida, but the correspondence Willing carried with him to Florida could be construed as authorization to punish British loyalists. With his desire for adventure and a somewhat reckless nature, Willing boarded the gunboat Rattletrap[13] with his Virginians, now dubbed “marines.”

Willing and his marines departed Fort Pitt early on the night of 10 January. A short distance from where the Wabash empties into the Ohio River, the Willing Expedition seized the large bateau[14] belonging to the Becquet Brothers, which was laden with pelts. They also arrested a man named La Chance and impounded his cargo of brandy —which Willing and his crew subjected to extensive tests for impurities. Willing’s notoriety thus established, off they went into the Ohio River and southward. The commander at Fort Kaskaskia, a Frenchman named Rocheblave, suspected that the Willing Expedition was moving toward Illinois and believed that the sort of insults offered to Becquet and La Chance was the sort of thing frontier settlers could expect from colonial hoodlums should they ever achieve a foothold into the western (French) colonies.

By the time the expedition reached the Mississippi River, Willing had added two canoes and ten recruits to his entourage. One of these was a youngster named George Girty, whom Willing commissioned a second lieutenant. George was the youngest of four brothers, a family whose only claim to history was that they all became British loyalists. Historians know that Willing stopped at a Spanish post at the mouth of the Arkansas River, where, having warned the few American settlers living there that their lives were in peril from British loyalists, proceeded on his journey. The then-petrified settlers ended up petitioning Spanish officials for their protection.

Willing arrived at the Natchez plantation of Colonel Anthony Hutchins[15], a loyalist, on 19 February, promptly arrested him and seized his property —including his slaves. Willing then divided his force by sending two canoes on a scouting mission further south to the Natchez settlement —a farming community populated by American, English, and French settlers (all of whom lived together in harmony) —and until recent times, the home of James Willing. The scouting party, well-armed and dressed as hunters, arrested all settlement inhabitants and secured their property.

Willing and his main body arrived the following morning. According to later testimony, captive townspeople sent a delegation of four citizens to parlay with Willing. They agreed to surrender and promised their neutrality if Willing restored their property. Willing agreed, adding these stipulations: (a) that the settlers must agree to re-provision his expeditionary force, (b) that single men join the expedition, and (c) that all married persons relocate to Spanish territory within fifteen days. From among the single men who joined the expedition, Willing appointed Richard Harrison a lieutenant of marines.

South of Natchez, Willing carried out a campaign of destruction to crops, livestock, and the homes of Loyalist settlers and carried off their slaves (likely sold in New Orleans). William Dunbar and Frederick Spell, who witnessed Willing’s behavior, suggested in their later testimony that Willing was more interested in enriching himself than he was in any patriotic endeavor (which, by every account, seems to have been the case). Willing, however, did not molest any “patriotic” Americans.

By this time, the British were aware of Willing’s marauders —which given the expanse of the territory and poor communications back then, is quite amazing. In any case, the British dispatched their sloop Rebecca (well-armed with sixteen 4-pound and six swivel guns) up the Mississippi to interdict Willing’s campaign. On 23 February, 18 marines under lieutenants McIntyre and Harrison captured Rebecca, which for a time ended Great Britain’s control of the Mississippi River. McIntyre and Harrison sailed the vessel to New Orleans as a prize of war. The ship would be renamed, Morris.

Oliver Pollock established and maintained a close relationship with Governor Bernardo de Gálvez. During a future Spanish campaign against the British, Pollock would serve as Gálvez’ aide-de-camp. When Pollock received word that Willing was approaching New Orleans, he recruited an additional 40 men to join the expedition and assisted him in transporting “British” property to New Orleans. Of these 40 men, 26 men took it upon themselves to float downriver to join McIntyre and Harrison. McIntyre’s group soon came upon the British Brig Neptune and seized her. Neptune was laden with lumber and a handful of passengers bound for Jamaica. McIntyre off-loaded the passengers, retained the cargo, and sailed her to New Orleans —the expedition’s second prize.

News of Willing’s expedition quickly spread throughout British West Florida and caused some panic among the loyalists. They abandoned their large plantations, loaded their slaves, livestock, and valuables on boats and barges, and headed toward New Orleans where they petitioned Spanish officials for protection. For their part, at least initially, Spanish officials were intent on remaining neutral in the conflict between the British and Americans, so they graciously received these refugees and accorded them Spanish hospitality. Governor Gálvez similarly welcomed James Willing, which in large measure as a result of Oliver Pollock’s efforts.

Willing and his men were granted freedom of the city, provided with housing, and they were allowed to auction the property taken from loyalists, including their slaves[16]. The precise amount of the profits gained by Willing’s auction is unknown, but some estimates ranged as high as £60,000.00. While appreciative of the courtesy and hospitality accorded to their subjects, British officials strongly protested the fact that Gálvez extended those same courtesies to James Willing, who in their view was nothing more than a pirate. Neither were the British pleased about Willing’s auctioning British property.

Gov. Gálvez ignored British protests, and the longer he did so, the louder their protests became. Within a short time, British petitions for redress were filed almost every day. Finally, Gálvez appointed a commission to consider the merits of British complaints. Until mid-March, Gálvez remained unconcerned with British protests. But then came the arrival of the British sloop Sylph under the command of Captain John Ferguson. In addressing the problem, Ferguson was simple and direct:

Having the honor to command one of His Britannic Majesty’s ships in this river, and having information that your excellency has received into your government a body of armed men, enemies to my Sovereign and that you have suffered them from the Spanish Territory to commit depredations on this River by forcibly seizing upon the vessels, property, and persons of British subjects, in violation of the Treatise of Peace, the Law of Nations, and the Rights of Men. I cannot help looking at such conduct on your part, as a tacit if not an open declaration of war against the King, my master.

Governor Gálvez answered Ferguson with equal fervor[17]. He had no obligation (he said) to protect British citizens residing on British soil but (pending the report by his commission), Gálvez offered to return British goods and property seized by Willing. This decision came as a blow to the Willing/Pollock clique. They offered a stout defense of their activities, particularly as it related to the capture of the two British ships. Neptune, argued Willing, having been seized on open water in British territory, was a lawful prize of war. Gálvez remained inflexible; Neptune must be returned. When it appeared that Morris (formerly Rebecca) seemed more secure, Oliver Pollock proceeded to refit and man her. William Pickles was selected to serve as Morris’ Captain, and Robert Elliott was chosen to serve as Commanding Officer of Marines (Daniel Longstreet was appointed to serve as Marine First Lieutenant)[18].

In April, Captain Ferguson and Sylph was relieved by Captain Joseph Nunn, commanding HMS Hound. Nunn continued to press Gálvez on the issues raised by Ferguson; Gálvez continued to resist all British suppositions and remained firm with the Americans. Nevertheless, believing that the British would initiate military action, Governor Gálvez requested reinforcements from the Viceroy of New Spain and began working on New Orleans defenses. He also demanded that every British/American person living in New Orleans take an oath of neutrality or leave the city. A few British departed the city, but most remained. Americans were unanimous in their acceptance.

Gov. Gálvez felt better once the American and British had offered their oaths respecting Spanish neutrality. Captain Nunn, on the other hand, did not feel better. In his view, Gálvez had openly demonstrated his support for the colonial rebellion, and this placed Spain in opposition to the British Crown. It wasn’t enough to cause Captain Nunn to initiate war with Spain, of course, but Gálvez’s cozy relationship with the colonists did prompt the British into reasserting their authority on the Mississippi River.

Before dawn on 19 April, Nunn sent a force of fifty men to recapture Fort Bute at Manchac (115 miles north of New Orleans) which had been seized by Willing’s expedition. British riflemen killed two men and a woman and wounded ten others. Fourteen Americans were taken, prisoner. Willing was, by this time, concerned about retaining control of Natchez, which led him to dispatch a force of marines under Lieutenant Harrison to observe whether Natchez loyalists were keeping their oaths of neutrality.

Meanwhile, Colonel Hutchins had violated his parole by returning to his plantation. In Natchez, Hutchins agitated among the citizens and urged them to take up arms against American colonists. We do not know what Hutchins told these people, but we do know that he alarmed them to the point of organizing a stout defense at a location known as White Cliffs.

En route to Natchez, Lieutenant Harrison was forewarned by a man named John Talley of Colonel Hutchins’ mischief. Harrison sent Talley ahead to offer assurances that his intentions were peaceful. Hutchins’ work was well done, however, and upon Harrison’s approach, loyalist gunfire inflicted a heavy toll on the marines. Harrison lost five men killed with several more wounded and captured; Harrison returned to New Orleans with only a few of his remaining force.

British West Florida Governor Peter Chester (—1799), with service between 1770-81, encouraged British settlers to return to their homes and “restore yourselves to that full allegiance and fidelity which you owe to your sovereign and country.” And, he added, that should these citizens not comply with Chester’s advice, then they would be judged guilty of criminal neglect of their solemn duty. With a British army garrison of 110 men from Pensacola guarding Fort Bute at Manchac, a British ship with a crew of 150 men, and 200 British militia protecting Natchez, loyalist settlers finally felt secure. Thus renewed, British presence also stopped the flow of goods between New Orleans and Fort Pitt.

The Willing Expedition had aroused British loyalists along the river to such extent that Willing could no longer return to Philadelphia via the Mississippi. And, the longer Willing remained in New Orleans, the less Gálvez and Pollock wanted to deal with him. Gálvez was highly incensed when Willing circumvented the governor’s prerogatives by issuing a proclamation to Americans living in New Orleans. The proclamation not only violated Willing’s oath, a condition of his being allowed to remain in New Orleans, it was also a violation of Spanish sovereignty. But if the rift between Willing and Gálvez was significant, the break with Pollock was even worse. With some justification, Willing criticized Pollock for his poor administration and questionable financial accounting[19]. Willing’s unpaid marauders were displeased to the point of deserting in large numbers. It was only the consistent discipline and fair treatment of Lieutenant Harrison and Lieutenant George that kept most (not all) marines on duty. In any case, Pollock was anxious to be rid of Willing and did not hesitate to express his annoyance with Willing in his reports to Congress.

Hoping for James Willing’s departure from New Orleans was one thing; witnessing his departure was another. Effectively, Captain Willing had become a prisoner in New Orleans, but he had no one to blame but himself. It was his actions that caused the British to block the Mississippi. Willing had but two options for returning to Philadelphia: an overland march, or by sea. Willing had no interest in walking back to Pennsylvania.

By mid-June, Oliver Pollock decided he’d had enough of James Willing and formally petitioned Governor Gálvez to allow work to proceed on Morris so that it might carry Willing and his men back to Philadelphia. Without much consideration, Gálvez consented and the ship’s refit was soon started. Unhappily for both Gálvez and Willing, the refit project experienced several delays.

Fed up with life in New Orleans, Lieutenant George and Lieutenant Harrison requested the governor’s permission to leave New Orleans via the overland route. Governor Gálvez gave his consent conditionally: George and Harrison had to give their oath not to cause further dismay to any British subject. Having offered their oaths, the officers soon departed. After a year of overland travel, the marines finally returned to Fort Pitt. After the marine detachment was officially disbanded, George accepted an appointment as a captain of an artillery in the Continental Army.

Accompanied by Lieutenant McIntyre, James Willing finally departed New Orleans in mid-November carrying dispatches for the Continental Congress. The ship, however, was captured by a British privateer off the coast of Delaware and Willing was taken as a prisoner to New York where he remained until exchanged for British Lieutenant Governor Henry Hamilton. Some historians contend that Willing spent two years as a prisoner of war. If this is true, when one considers his many depredations imposed on Mississippi River settlements, then a reasonable man might conclude that his internment was warranted.

James Willing died at his home in Haverford Township, Pennsylvania in 1801. He was 51 years old. For additional insight into the corruption of early-American officials, see also: James Wilkinson, Image of Respectability. The amount of dishonesty during the Revolutionary and early founding periods of the United States could lead one to conclude that as despicable as James Willing was, he had much in common with more than a few of our founding fathers.

Sources:

DuVal, K. Independence Lost: Lives on the Edge of the American Revolution. Random House, 2016.
Eron, R. Peter Chester, Third Governor of the Province of West Florida Under British Domination 1770-1781. Jackson: University of Mississippi Press, 1925.
Haynes, R. V. The Natchez District, and the American Revolution. Jackson: University of Mississippi Press, 2011.
James, A. J. Oliver Pollock, Financier of the Revolution in the West. Mississippi Historical Review, 1929.
Smith, C. R. Marines in the Revolution: A History of the Continental Marines in the American Revolution. Washington: History and Museums Division, Headquarters, U. S. Marine Corps, 1975.

Endnotes:

[1] Attributed to Julius Caesar, De Bello Civille.

[2] The same thing is happening today within the so-called Progressive Movement; modern conservatives (the classic liberals of the colonial era) are being regularly attacked because of their values. Progressivism, as it turns out, is not very enlightened.

[3] It is impossible to say the pessimists were completely wrong about the level of political corruption in America.

[4] Followers of Oliver and James De Lancey. Oliver was a wealthy merchant, politician, and British Provincial soldier; James was his nephew.

[5] Modern leftists define “patriotism” as an anti-government “far right” movement. In 1775, it was a far-left movement.

[6] Robert Morris, Jr., (1734-1806) was an English-born financier who served in the Pennsylvania legislature, the Second Continental Congress, and the United States Senate. He was a signer to the Declaration of Independence, Articles of Confederation, and the U. S. Constitution.

[7] According to his “friends and neighbors” in Natchez, Mr. Willing drank too much, talked too much, and thought too little. This may be a fair assessment.

[8] O’Reilly (1723-1794) was born in Ireland became the Inspector-General of Infantry in the Spanish Empire, served as Captain-General and the second Spanish governor of Louisiana, and the first official to exercise power in Louisiana after France ceded it to Spain. He was later made a count of Spain but known to creoles as “Bloody O’Reilly.”

[9] The older brother of William Rogers Clark. A surveyor and militia officer who became the highest-ranking officer of the Revolution in the western frontier. Most of his accomplishments occurred before his 40th birthday; subsequently, his drinking and indebtedness destroyed his reputation. When Virginia refused to pay him for his Revolutionary war expenses, he turned his attention toward the Spanish as a source of income, but mostly through questionable land speculation schemes. His is not one of the great American stories of our founding years.

[10] James Willing is not listed as a commissioned officer of the Continental Navy.

[11] The title claimed was something Willing made up. There is an organization today with a similar title claiming to consist of ten states, five provinces of Canada, and Guam. ISA announced its independence in 2007 where its officials all wear tin foil hats.

[12] What the Continental Congress did not want was a sizeable expedition to West Florida to attack Pensacola and Mobile, an ambitious plan that had the support of Benedict Arnold. Congress decided instead on a more modest expedition and placed Willing in charge of it.

[13] I’m not sure how to respond to questions about the naming convention involve with this vessel, but Rattletrap was purchased from John Gibson for 300 pounds in Pennsylvania currency. It was a galley-type vessel with ten oars, and she/it was armed with two ¾-pound swivel guns.

[14] A long, light, flat bottom boat with a sharply pointed bow and stern.

[15] Colonel Hutchins was a retired British Army officer whose grant of land for military service was 250,000 acres. His home was located at White Apple Acres, which he occupied in 1773. He served as a representative representing the Natchez district in the provincial assembly in Pensacola in 1778. At times during the Willing Expedition, Hutchins was the de facto governor of the Natchez district. He remained active in political and military affairs in present-day Mississippi for many years.

[16] Despite Spanish law, which forbade commerce with foreigners.

[17] The British were hardly in a position of strength in West Florida. Eventually, Gálvez would seize both Pensacola and Natchez (1779).

[18] Both Robert Elliott and Daniel Longstreet’s names appear in the lineal list of officers of the Continental Navy and Marine Corps.

[19] Pollock was, as previously stated, a businessman whose every action was motivated by profit. He is not remembered as a man having an abundance of scruples.

The Captain …

… was as Mad as a Hatter[1]

Pierre de Landais (1731-1820) was born in Saint-Malo, Department d’Ille-et-Vilaine, Bretagne, France. He was the son of one of Normandie’s oldest families whose wealth enabled him to attend the Ecole de la Marine. Pierre might have had a notable career in the French Navy were it not for the fact that his father exhausted the family fortune providing a brilliant display of fireworks to entertain Mme. De Pompadour[2]. Under these circumstances, Pierre was unable to purchase promotion[3] and Pierre remained a midshipman until he was 32-years old.

In 1762, Pierre served aboard a French ship during France’s unsuccessful defense of Quebec. During an engagement with a British warship, Landais was wounded, taken prisoner, and transported to England. As a midshipman, Landais had no value as a prisoner and he was soon returned to France. He later participated in the first French circumnavigation of earth (1766-1769), sponsored and led by Admiral Louis-Antoine, Comte de Bougainville.

In 1775, aged 44-years, Lieutenant Pierre was discharged from the French Navy. Two years later, Pierre accepted an appointment to command a merchantman for Hortalez et Cie —a shell company controlled by French entrepreneur Pierre Augustin Caron de Beaumarchais[4] (1732-1799). Through the shell company, Beaumarchais smuggled arms and money to America through the West Indies. Landais delivered his illicit goods to an American agent at Portsmouth, New Hampshire, which made him a hero among the American rebels.

Massachusetts was so pleased that they granted Pierre “honorary citizenship” and paid him in French currency the equivalent of £12,000. To these grateful people, Landais proudly proclaimed that he “had served as a captain in the royal navy of France, had commanded a ship of the line, had served as chief officer of the port of Brest, and was of such worth and estimation for his great abilities at sea that he could have any honors or advancement in his own country that he pleased to accept.”

In 1777, the gratitude of Americans toward the French was such that they looked for ways of manifesting their appreciation in some public act. In Massachusetts, Landais spent a great deal of time in the company of John Adams[5], who later observed that Landais was an enigma: he was frustrated in his ambitions, disappointed in love, unable to win the affection or respect of his officers, and intensely jealous of everyone else. From John Adams diary, “There is in this man an inactivity and an indecisiveness that will ruin him. He is bewildered and possesses an embarrassed mind.” Worse, perhaps, Landais was deeply paranoid, convinced of plots against him.

In 1778, someone (we aren’t sure who) encouraged Landais to apply for a commission in the Continental Navy. The Marine Commission of the Congress dutifully considered his application and initially rejected it (for reasons unknown[6]), but six weeks later, on 9 May, Congress did offer him a captain’s commission to serve as the officer commanding USS Alliance.

Alliance was a 36-gun frigate originally named Hancock. Her keel was laid in 1777 on the Merrimack River near Amesbury, Massachusetts. The ship was launched on 28 April 1778, renamed Alliance on 29 May. Alliance is believed to have been the first warship built in America. She was brought down the Merrimack River from Salisbury to Newburyport and then to Boston in early August. In Boston, the ship was ordered to prepare to receive the entourage of the Marquis de la Lafayette[7] and transport them to France; Lafayette’s mission was to petition the French Court for increased financial support for the American cause. Preparations for sea did not proceed very well because not long after taking command of his new ship, Captain Landais encountered problems with his officers, which delayed the marquis’ departure.

Apparently, the Alliance’s officers were happy to remain aboard ship, but unhappy with serving under Landais. These were all experienced seamen. We do not know their specific complaint, but I assume that they were underwhelmed, either by the quality of Landais’ seamanship or his leadership. The officers probably anticipated that this would not be a happy cruise. In any case, Landais requested that Congress replace several of his officers. At an inquiry to determine the cause of this unhappy relationship between Alliance’s Captain and his officers, Marine Captain Matthew Parke[8] served as spokesman for disgruntled ship’s officers. In Parke’s view, if even one officer was replaced, then the Navy Committee would have to replace them all. Ultimately, Landais withdrew his demand for the removal of officers, but the animosity between Landais and his officers continued; Captain Parke of the Marines had earned no favor with Captain Landais.

Worse than Landais’ dysfunctional relationship with ship’s officers was his poor treatment of the crew. Port towns are renowned for rumor, innuendo, and the rapid transmission of unhappy news. It did not take long for word of Landais’ shoddy treatment of the crew to spread among those looking for birthing. Consequently, Alliance was unable to recruit a full crew for service at sea. Although, part of this was that eligible crewmen preferred instead to join privateers, where the pay was better.

Significantly short of the number of crewmen needed to man a frigate, Alliance was forced to draft seamen from USS Boston, and an additional 30 French crewmen from the squadron of Admiral d’Estaing —all of whom were recovering from some sickness. Additional shortages remaining, Alliance took onboard British prisoners who opted for service in the Continental Navy rather than spending their days locked up in rat-infested holding cells. Most British prisoners “signed on” as Marines.

Alliance finally shoved off on 14 January 1779 and for the most part, the journey was peaceful and calm —although Alliance did seize two Swedish vessels as prizes and the frigate lost her topmast in a storm. During the early morning hours of 2 February, a mutinous plot was uncovered among the ship’s English-speaking crew. All hands were called on deck and held there while officers searched personal belongings for weapons and evidence of the conspiracy. Landais convened a court of inquiry to question alleged ringleaders. Two of the ringleaders were Master at Arms John Savage and Marine sergeant William Murray. Eventually, Sergeant Murray admitted that he and Savage (along with 70 men) intended to seize the ship and sail her to England. Lafayette, Murray said, was to be placed in irons and delivered to the British government. Landais ordered the mutineers placed in irons and the ship continued to Brest, France —arriving on 6 February.

In Brest, Alliance remained in port for a month while undergoing repair. In early April, John Schweighauser, an American commercial agent, informed Captain Landais that he was to proceed to port on the Loire River. There, John Adams had arranged for a swap of prisoners with the British at Nantes. Adams boarded Alliance expecting to return with Landais to America, but while in port, Landais received new orders directing that he report to Commodore John Paul Jones[9] at L’Orient.

At L’Orient, Captain Landis and Mr. Adams called upon Captain Jones, who was then aboard his ship Bonhomme Richard. At this meeting, Landis learned that he would be placed under the command of Captain Jones. Captain Landais did not want to serve in a squadron; he preferred to sail on his own and he deeply resented having to join Captain Jones’ flotilla. Added to this, from every account, Landais and Jones detested one another almost from the start. For his part, Mr. Adams was disappointed in not being able to return to America aboard Alliance.

Disagreement between Jones and Landais wasn’t long in coming. In terms of modern command relationships, disagreement between commodore and captain may seem strange. In 1779, Captain Jones served as commodore of a flotilla of American and French naval vessels, but he did not command them because each ship’s captain was free to act as he pleased irrespective of the commodore’s wishes. On 25 August, Jones’ flotilla was at sea and Jones became troubled by the fact that several of his squadron’s small boats were lost in the dense fog off the Irish coast[10]. Captain Landais desired to pursue a prize vessel into the treacherous waters along the coast with limited visibility, but Jones, fearing the loss of Alliance, ordered Landais to remain with the fleet. Landais was not obliged to obey, arguing that he had the right to pursue when and where he thought proper “in this and every other matter.”

Jones, with a full realization that the command relationship was at best tentative, tried to reason with Landais, but Captain Landais was adamant and proceeded to accuse Jones of incompetence in losing the small boats, to begin with. Jones, now in a fury, responded that Landais had slandered his superior officer and would not have it. Both officers believed themselves affronted, and according to the code of gentlemanly behavior in 1779, Landais challenged Jones to a duel … choosing the sword. This would, of course, give Landais an advantage given the French tradition of swordsmanship. Jones was known as a hothead, but at this moment, there were larger fish to fry. Jones suggested that duty must be their priority; he suggested they put aside their animosity until they were on land, where they could resolve the matter —as gentlemen.

During the Revolutionary War period, sailing ships were crewed by seaman representing a variety of countries. With the naval powers of Europe being constantly at war, neutral seaports in the North Atlantic abounded in captured ships, taken to port as prizes of war, auctioned and sold with some proceeds distributed among the officers and crew. Once the ships were sold, the men who crewed them were left stranded in the neutral port until they could sign on to another ship. It was in this way that the number of seafaring men increased; it also explains why there was among them no sense of national allegiance. Captain Jones’ crew aboard Bonhomme Richard was a crew like this. They were multilingual, scurvy-ridden, argumentative louts; they obeyed orders because they would have a close encounter with a cat o’ nine tails[11] if they didn’t. To keep the crew in line, Jones divided them into watches with one of these always keeping a wary eye on the other.

During one foray, Jones’ squadron searched for British shipping in the Bay of Biscay. During a squall, both Bonhomme Richard and Alliance were blinded and on a collision course. The bow watch aboard Bonhomme Richard gave shouts of warning in a language other than English or French. Captain Landais assumed that Bonhomme Richard was under siege of a mutinous crew and left his quarterdeck to retrieve weapons from his cabin. The bowsprit of Bonhomme Richard tore into Alliance’s rigging, which damaged her mizenmast. At that moment, Jones was asleep in his cabin. It was no more than an accident at sea, but the incident did nothing to ease the tension between Jones and Landais.

On the late afternoon of 23 September 1779, sailing off Flamborough Head, England, Commodore Jones’ squadron came across the 44-gun HMS Serapis[12] and her consort HMS Countess of Scarborough. The British ships escorted 44 small merchant vessels carrying naval stores. The unarmed or poorly armed cargo ships hastily changed course for the nearest British port for safety. Jones hoisted his signal lantern ordering Alliance to join Bonhomme Richard in the upcoming battle, but Captain Landais ignored Jones’ signal and maintained his course. The battle was joined when Serapis opened fire, blasting Bonhomme Richard in a devastating broadside. Jones lost several guns and crew in the first volley. Worse for Bonhomme Richard, her hull was breached, and her rudder was badly damaged. Alliance finally joined the battle, approaching from Bonhomme Richard’s stern. Serapis, intending to fire on Alliance, raked Bonhomme Richard again. Jones ordered identity lanterns hoisted higher to keep Captain Landais from getting confused. Captain Landais was not confused, however, when he fired point-blank into Bonhomme Richard and then, turning away, unleashed a second barrage into his commodore’s ship.

The British Officer commanding HMS Serapis, Captain Richard Pearson[13], RN, was horrified by the damage done to Bonhomme Richard, but the two ships were locked together in a desperate struggle, each ship hoping to survive. Jones’ Marines were killing the crew of Serapis from their perches in the topsails. The crew of Bonhomme Richard continued to fight valiantly even as the ship began to sink beneath them. The battle lasted more than four hours. HMS Serapis finally struck her colors and Captain Pearson surrendered his sword to Captain Jones. When morning arrived, the American ensign was flying over both ships, but Bonhomme Richard was sinking and would not last the day. After the battle, Captain Landais confided to one of his officers that he intended to help Serapis sink Bonhomme Richard.

British flotilla operating nearby posed a serious threat to Commodore Jones’ squadron, so he was anxious to depart, but before Jones could return to the sea, the captured Serapis needed considerable rework to make her seaworthy. The work took seven days. Jones’ squadron then consisted of Serapis, Alliance, Countess of Scarborough, Pallas, and Vengeance. His orders were to put in at Texel[14], but Jones preferred instead to call at Dunkirk where his prizes and prisoners could be placed under French jurisdiction. His captains refused, however, insisting that Jones follow his original instructions; if the commodore did not wish to follow those orders, then he must proceed to Dunkirk alone. Jones opted to accompany the squadron to Texel.

The American fleet’s very presence in Texel made his Dutch hosts nervous. They agreed to allow the refitting of the squadron’s damaged ships but refused to accept any of his 500 prisoners. Consequently, Jones was forced to retain his prisoners in the cold, damp, rat-infested hold of Serapis. Many of these men were sick, but the Dutch remained adamant. In late October, Jones’ Dutch hosts finally allowed him to remove wounded men and house them in the fort. If Jones wanted these men cared for, then he would have to do that himself; Jones assigned this task to his Marines, which were also employed as guards for the prisoners at Texel, the prisoners aboard Serapis, and as members of the work crew repairing damaged ships.

On 15 October, when American Commissioner Benjamin Franklin[15] received charges of cowardice against Captain Landais, which were validated by the statements and oaths of several squadron officers, he ordered Landais to Paris. Based on the evidence presented, Franklin suspended Landais from command of Alliance, which infuriated Landis to no end.

Once France agreed to assume financial responsibility for the squadron (all except for Alliance), and to avoid rupturing the delicate relations between France and Holland, Captain Jones transferred his flag, all American officers and crew (and most of the ship’s stores) from Serapis to Alliance. Captain Jones was not pleased with the state of the discipline of Alliance’s crew; he wasn’t encouraged by the conduct of Landais’ officers, either. They were too fond of rum.

Disgusted with the Dutch, Captain Jones sought the first favorable wind to depart from Texel; he waited four weeks. Jones finally made his break, escaping through British pickets without incident but Alliance was not a happy ship. Quarrels broke out between ship’s officers, one group supporting Landais, the other devoted to Jones. The primary issue was Landais’ cowardice in the fight off Flamborough Head. Jones instructed his officers to carry out their orders smoothly, professionally, and quietly and dispense with petty arguments with Landais’ officers.

On 10 February 1799, Jones put in at L’Orient and moored beside Serapis, which was awaiting condemnation. Alliance underwent repairs and refit. By mid-April, Jones received orders to return Alliance to America with large supplies of arms and clothing for General Washington’s army. There was still the question of prize money[16], however, and to resolve the issues, Captain Jones frequently traveled to Paris. Captain Landais, meanwhile, plotted to regain command of Alliance.

It was not difficult for Landais to agitate the crew against Jones; he convinced them that Captain Jones had neglected their interests in the matter of prize money. The crew even wrote to Benjamin Franklin declaring that they would not raise the ship’s anchor until their wages and prize money had been paid, or until their captain (Landais) was restored to duty[17]. Marine Captain Matthew Parke was vocal about his refusal to sign such a letter.

On 12 June, Captain Jones returned to L’Orient, assembled his crew, and solicited whether anyone had any complaints. The crew remained silent; their stillness gave no occasion for Captain Jones to act on their behalf. After Jones went ashore, Landais went aboard and seized control of Alliance. All officers of the Bonhomme Richard were sent ashore. Landais then ordered Captain Parke to arm his Marines with bayonets and station them to guard the gangplank. Anyone attempting to board without Landais’ permission was to be impaled.

Neither Jones nor any of his officers made any attempt to regain control of Alliance. Instead, Jones returned to Paris to ask for increased authority from Commissioner Franklin. But, by the time Jones returned, Landais had already departed L’Orient for Port Louis. French authorities responded to Franklin’s request for assistance by laying a boom across the narrow strait outside Port Louis, through which Landais would have to travel. The boom would force Alliance to pass within cannon shot of two French forts guarding the straits. The French also stationed a gunboat to guard the boom, as well. Suddenly, surprising everyone, Captain Jones gave up his intent to regain Alliance. According to Jones, he did not want squabbling between American and French officials to give aid to their common enemy.

No sooner had the French removed the barrier, Captain Landais sailed through the strait, destination America. En route, Landais placed Captain Parke under arrest in quarters for eleven days as punishment for his refusal to take an oath of obedience to Landais. Parke’s arrest soured the officers and crew of Alliance. To emphasize his authority, Landais ordered into irons any crewman who complained about Parke’s treatment. On 11 August, the ship’s officers and crew revolted. By this time, the ship’s crew were convinced that Captain Landais was utterly mad. According to the testimony of Seaman John Kilby, “Landais conduct was such that … [it convinced the officers and passengers] that he was in a measure beside himself.”

Upon Alliance’s arrival in Boston, the Navy Board ordered Captain John Barry to relieve Landais of his command. Landais refused to resign, however, so three stout Marines under the command of Captain Matthew Parke dragged him out of his cabin and took him ashore. At his court-martial, even Pierre’s friends opined that he was probably insane. The verdict? Landais was judged guilty of allowing private goods shipped aboard a warship, of being incapable of handling a ship. He was “broke in rank” and judged unfit of serving in the Continental Navy.

Pierre Landais later became a resident of New York; his share of prize money paid him an annual annuity of $100.00. From this amount, he saved enough to afford an annual visit to the seat of government (first, Philadelphia, and later the federal city named Washington) to petition the Congress for their reconsideration of his dismissal. He asked for the restoration of his rank and payment in arrears. Congress would not hear of it … and Captain Pierre de Landais went to his grave with an intense hatred of John Paul Jones.

Sources:

Allen, G. W. A Naval History of the American Revolution. Boston: Houghton-Mifflin, 1913
Crocker, III. H. W. Don’t Tread on Me. New York: Crown Publishing, 2006
Ford, W. C. Journals of the Continental Congress, 1774-1789. Washington: Government Printing Office, 1937
Norton, L. A. The Revolutionary War’s Most Enigmatic Naval Captain: Pierre Landais. Journal of the American Revolution, Online
Meany, W. B. Commodore John Barry: Father of the American Navy. New York/London: Harper Brothers, 1911
Morison, S. E. John Paul Jones: A Sailor’s Biography. Boston: Little/Brown, 1999
Smith, C. R., and Charles H. Waterhouse. Marines in the Revolution: A History of the Continental Marines in the American Revolution, 1775-1783. Washington: History and Museums Division, Headquarters, U. S. Marine Corps, 1975.
Thomas, E. John Paul Jones: Sailor, Hero, Father of the American Navy. Waterville: Thorndike Press, 2003.

Endnotes:

[1] This is a British phrase used to suggest that a person is suffering from insanity. The phrase is thought to have originated from Bedfordshire where local men worked in the hatter business, which used mercury in the hat making process. Their exposure to mercury caused symptoms like madness. Louis Carol’s reference to a character in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland is only casually related to Hatter’s Disease.

[2] Jeanne Antoinette Poisson, Marquise de Pompadour (1721-1764) was the official mistress of Louis XV (1745-51) and remained a favorite at Royal Court until her death. Official mistress … those French!

[3] In these days, military officers purchased their promotions rather than earning them.

[4] Beaumarchais was a polymath with skills in watchmaking, invention, playwright, musician, diplomat, spy, publisher, horticulturist, arms dealer, satirist, financier, and revolutionary.

[5] In 1777, Adams was a delegate to the Continental Congress serving on as many as 90 separate committees, one of these being Chair, Board of War and Ordnance. It was likely that in this position, Adams met with Landais. In late 1777, Adams was appointed US Envoy to France, serving until March 1779.

[6] Rejection may have come from John Adams, who was a member of the Marine Commission.

[7] Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier.

[8] As one of the first Marine officers, Matthew Parke served alongside John Paul Jones on the Ranger during his highly successful cruise in British home waters, as well as serving on Alliance during the Battle of Flamborough Head. The Continental Marine uniform consisted of green coats with white facings and tall leather collar to protect the neck from sharp edged weapons (hence, the term “Leatherneck”). Captain Park’s portrait dates to around 1800. Portraits of Continental Navy officers are rare; portraits of Continental Marines even more so.

[9] In 1778 “commodore” was an honorific title bestowed upon navy captains appointed to lead several ships, also referred to as a squadron. The relationship between a commodore in command of a squadron and his subordinate captains was more on the order of a loose confederation since each ship’s captain was free to ignore the commodore and go their own way as they saw fit. This was probably the result of the fact that one or more ships were captained by French officers who owed no allegiance to the birthing United States.

[10] It was customary in those days to lower boats, particularly in dense fog, to search for the presence of enemy ships.

[11] A multi-tailed flail commonly used to administer punishment in the British and Continental army and navy.

[12] HMS Serapis was named after the god Serapis in Greek and Egyptian mythology. Captured by Jones, Serapis was later transferred to the French Navy serving as a privateer. She was lost in 1781 to a fire.

[13] Pearson (1731-1806) was an experienced naval officer. After his fight with Bonhomme Richard, the English people embraced him as a true British hero. He was knighted and received many accolades from the English people. Responding to a question about how he felt that the officer he defeated in battle received a knighthood, Captain John Paul Jones answered, “If he’ll meet me on the high seas again, I’ll make him a Lord.”

[14] Today, the Netherland’s largest and populated island.

[15] Franklin served as U. S. Commissioner to France from 1776 to 1785. Among his accomplishments was the securing a critical military alliance between France and the United States, and the Treaty of Paris in 1783.

[16] Given the fact that France financially supported the combined American/French naval fleets, captured ships not converted to war ships or cargo vessels (and their cargoes) were sold at auction. The proceeds from these sales were then divvied up between the treasury of France, and the officers and crews who had made the capture. Delays in making these payments to crewmen was common and, not surprisingly, a major source of the crewmen’s complaints.

[17] It is almost laughable to imagine that this rather unsophisticated group of crewmen wanted (either) their money, or Captain Landais. One suspects that Captain Landais himself slipped that one in …

Gooch’s Colonial Marines

First, some background …

As everyone knows, the British and Spanish have been at one another’s throats since Moby Dick was a minnow, so we’ll just fast-forward to the conclusion of the War of Spanish Succession in 1713. The Treaty of Utrecht gave the British a 30-year right of access to supply slaves to Spanish colonies and up to five hundred tons of goods per year. The effect of this arrangement was that it gave British merchants (and smugglers) inroads to previously closed markets in Spanish America. In spite of the treaty, however, Great Britain and Spain continued to be at odds during this period, including such conflicts as the War of the Quadruple Alliance, the Blockade of Porto Bello, and the Anglo-Spanish War, which ended in 1729.

Following the Anglo-Spanish War, Britain accorded Spanish warships so-called visitation rights —which is to say the right of Spanish vessels to inspect British trading vessels, operating along the Spanish Main, for smuggled cargoes. Over time, Spain began to suspect that British traders were abusing certain tenets of this treaty (with some justification). Stepping up their inspections, Spanish coast guard authorities began confiscating British cargoes.

In 1731, Spanish officials boarded the British Brig Rebecca off the coast of Florida looking for contraband. At some point in this confrontation, a Spanish customs officer sliced off the ear of the ship’s captain, a man named Robert Jenkins. While the incident proved somewhat traumatic to Captain Jenkins, no one back home in England really cared about Captain Jenkins’ ear. In fact, Sir Robert Walpole [1] gave his support to Spain during the War of Polish Succession (1733-1735).

In seeking greater access to Spanish markets, however, political and trading interests began to exert pressure on Walpole to take a more aggressive stance with Spain. Walpole initially remained reticent, but as opposition to Walpole increased, so too did anti-Spanish sentiments among the British public —and the British South Sea Company [2]. Quite suddenly, Captain Jenkins’ ear became the focus of anti-Walpole political factions. Eventually, owing to these public sentiments, Walpole succumbed to public pressure and approved sending troops to the West Indies and a navy squadron to Gibraltar. The Spanish monarchy responded by seizing all British ships in Spanish harbors. The War of Jenkins’ Ear [3] thus began in 1739 —but it was little more than a continuation of the grab for America’s resources by the British, French, Dutch, and Spanish.

Vernon 001 One of the first major actions of the war was the British capture of a silver-exporting town on the coast of Panama on 22 November 1739. The purpose of this operation was to damage Spain’s economy and weaken its maritime capacity. The poorly defended port was attacked by six ships of the line under the command of Vice Admiral Edward Vernon. The port was quickly captured and within three weeks, British forces successfully destroyed its fortifications, port facilities, and warehouses. At the completion of these depredations, the British withdrew leaving Portobelo’s economy was so damaged that it did not fully recover until construction of the Panama Canal two hundred years later.

The Vernon action caused Spain to change their trade practices. Rather than conducting commerce at centralized ports with few large treasure fleets, they employed a larger number of convoys and increased the number of port facilities. The Spanish also devised new trading routes, including navigation around Cape Horn to establish trading facilities along South and Central America’s western coast.

Meanwhile, back in Great Britain, Admiral Vernon became the man of the hour and his victory was widely celebrated by folks who weren’t even sure where Panama was located. In 1740, at a dinner in Vernon’s honor the song “Rule Britannia” was performed for the first time. Patriotism was widespread in London; Robert Walpole was pressed to launch an even larger naval expedition to the Gulf of Mexico.

Nevertheless, Admiral Vernon and the governor of Jamaica, Edward Trelawny, believed that rather than focusing their attention in the Gulf of Mexico (Cuba, for example) they should give their attention to Spain’s gold coast and this became Vernon’s primary objective. Admiral Vernon planned a major assault on the city of Cartagena de Indias (in present day Columbia) because it was the location of the Spanish Viceroyalty and the main port of the West Indian fleet sailing for the Iberian Peninsula.

Admiral Vernon launched three assaults against Cartagena between 13 March 1740 and 20 May 1741. Requiring information about Cartagena, Vernon’s first assault was limited to a reconnaissance in force. He needed coastal surveys, and he needed to understand Spanish naval routines near Playa Grande.

The purpose of his second assault on 18 March 1740 was to provoke a Spanish response. By bombarding the city, Vernon hoped to be able to evaluate Spain’s defensive capabilities. In Cartagena, Admiral Blas de Lezo [4] anticipated Vernon’s intentions. Rather than responding to the naval bombardment, Lezo ordered the removal of cannon from ships and placed them as coastal defense batteries at likely avenues of a British approach. When Vernon initiated his anticipated amphibious assault, Lezo was waiting for him and the landing force was defeated. Vernon then commenced a naval bombardment that lasted twenty-one days, after which he withdrew the bulk of his forces.

Vernon returned to Cartagena with thirteen ships of war intending to re-initiate a bombardment of the city. This time Admiral Lezo reacted; he deployed six ships of the line so that the British fleet was kept beyond the firing range of the port city. Vernon, now frustrated, again withdrew leaving Admiral Lezo with confidence in his defensive capabilities.

So, what happened …

It was at this point that Admiral Vernon began to formulate plans for a third assault of Cartagena. To achieve this goal in terms of manpower, however, Great Britain was forced to urge its North American colonies to raise 3,000 soldiers to participate in the expedition [5]. There was no shortage of volunteers as thousands of men stepped forward to serve King and Country [6]. In total, the British raised 40 companies forming four battalions within an American regiment—paid for by the British taxpayer. Of significance, the regiment’s officers were granted the right to half-pay [7].

Appointed to command the Colonial regiment was Alexander Spotswood, a lieutenant colonel of the British Army and a former lieutenant governor of Virginia [8]. Spotswood, a noted explorer, also established the first colonial iron work in North America. He gained political standing for his skill in negotiating acceptable treaties with the Iroquois Nations. After Spotswood’s death in 1740, Sir William Gooch was appointed to replace him. At the time of his appointment, Sir William was the serving lieutenant governor of Virginia.

Lawrence Washington 001 — Lawrence Washington

All of Gooch’s field officers were detailed to the American regiment from the British Army; his company grade officers (excepting one lieutenant and one sergeant from the British Army in each company), were all appointed from among the colonial elite. Of these, the best known was a Lawrence Washington [9] (pictured left), who was George Washington’s older half-brother. When formed, the colonial regiment contained one colonel, four lieutenant colonels, four majors, thirty-six captains, seventy-two lieutenants, four adjutants, four quartermasters, one surgeon, four surgeon’s mates, 144 sergeants, 144 corporals, 72 drummers, and 3,240 privates (then called sentinels). Colonel Gooch’s immediate superior was Admiral Edward Vernon, Royal Navy —and for the purposes of this account, Gooch’s superior is relevant because Admiral Vernon intended Gooch’s regiment to perform as Marines, rather than as land infantry.

Lord Charles Cathcart — Charles Cathcart, 7th Lord Cathcart

The British home contingent, under the command of Lord Cathcart, was delayed by four months —finally sailing from England in November 1740. After joining the fleet in Jamaica in January 1741, Admiral Vernon commanded one of the largest fleets ever assembled. He commanded 186 ships, 3,000 pieces of artillery, and 27,000 men: 12,000 sailors, 10,000 soldiers, 1,000 Jamaican slaves, and the 4,000 troops of the American regiment. On paper, the numbers seem impressive, but the reality was another matter. Sickness and scurvy [10] were epidemic among the troops; Lord Charles Cathcart, the British army commander died from this disease.

Goochs Marines 001 — Uniform of the American Regiment, War of Jenkins’ Ear

The American regiment went ashore in Jamaica, but it was far from ready for combat service. Lacking sound officer and NCO leadership, the troops were ill-disciplined and inefficient in the art of war. Making things worse, the British government made no effort to pay or feed the colonials, which brought the colonial troops near to mutiny. Sickness was even more rampant within the American ranks than it was in the British. Yet, in spite of this, by 11 March Vernon positioned his fleet off the coast of the Spanish Main [11].

In order to reach Cartagena, Vernon had to force entry through a small passage at Boca Chica, which was defended by three forts; he had to defeat each of these fortifications. Accordingly, Vernon landed his troops —exempting the American Regiment [12]— and opened the critical passage.

In late April, Lieutenant General Thomas Wentworth, having replaced Lord Cathcart, led an attacking force to the outskirts of Cartagena. During this assault and owing to their lack of esprit de corps and overall tactical incompetence, Wentworth relegated the Americans to the menial task of carrying scaling ladders and woolpacks. During the assault Americans threw down their ladders and fled the battle. British forces were now left without the means to carry the walls of the city.

When a Spanish counter-attack threatened to isolate British forces from their ships, Wentworth was forced to withdraw. To make matters worse, yellow fever was now epidemic among the troops —American and British alike. Half of the landing force was incapacitated, which forced Admiral Vernon to withdraw his fleet to the coast. There, soldiers lay dying without medical attention by the hundreds. In early May, Vernon embarked the survivors of his land forces and returned to Jamaica. The sickness could not be contained, however, and the British force was soon reduced to around 2,700 men (roughly 1,300 English, 1,400 American).

In August, having decided to invade Cuba, Vernon’s fleet entered the Gulf of Mexico. On 29 August 1741 the British fleet anchored at Cumberland Bay, 90 miles from Santiago de Cuba. Troops and supplies were landed, but the sickness continued unabated. Vernon kept his soldiers in camp until November when they returned to their ships and the fleet sailed back to Jamaica. Three-thousand reinforcements arrived from England in February 1742, but they too fell ill. In October 1742, Gooch’s regiment was disbanded, and the officers and men were discharged. Of the 4,163 officers and men in the American regiment, only 10% survived. The regiment’s surviving officers did receive half-pay for the rest of their lives, but not before they appeared before a board of general officers in London to plead their case.

By succumbing to their natural fears and running away in the face of battle, Gooch’s regiment disgraced itself —but having said that, we cannot say that their training was adequate to the purpose of producing effective soldiers. Moreover, British treatment of these troops was equally outrageous. While it is true that Wentworth’s army distrusted these colonial marines, there were plenty of reasons for the Americans to distrust and feel betrayed by their British officers —even discounting the onset of disease. The Americans were inadequately clothed, fed, and cared for and they served without pay. At Cartagena, the Americans were relegated to work alongside Jamaican slaves. They were placed on ships and forced to work as seamen —a breach of the terms of their enlistments. Aboard ship, the colonials were refused berthing spaces or hammocks, assigned to do the work that ship’s crew didn’t want to do, and they were often moved from ship to ship without their own officer’s knowledge.

The men who formed the colonial regiment may have been detailed to serve Admiral Vernon’s fleet as marines, but there is no way to equate them with modern day American and British Royal Marines [13].

Notes:

[1] Robert Walpole, 1^stEarl of Oxford (1676-1745) was Great Britain’s first prime minister.

[2] The South Sea Company was a joint-stock company formed in 1711, created to consolidate and reduce the cost of national debt. The company was granted a monopoly to trade with South America and nearby islands—the genesis of its name.

[3] Robert Jenkins was called to testify before the Parliament in 1738, and according to some accounts, he produced his severed ear as part of his presentation. This account has never been verified. The Jenkins incident was considered along with various other examples of Spanish depredations upon British subjects and the incident, some eight years later, was popularly perceived as an insult to British honor.

[4] Admiral Blas de Lezo y Olaverrieta (1689-1741) was a Basque officer in service to the King of Spain.

[5] Until 1740, North America’s military contribution to Great Britain had mostly come from privateers[5], who were sanctioned by the British government during time of war. At other times, the British referred to such endeavors as piracy. Traditionally, colonial militia in North America were recruited and paid for by local governments to protect local jurisdictions; the British Army and Navy handled international conflicts. Thus, British expeditionary operations during the War of Jenkins’ Ear opened a new chapter in an old story —but with a significant shift: the employment of colonial ground forces. The use of American colonists as British ground forces had not been previously attempted —and, as it turns out, was never attempted again.

[6] Virginia was the only colony having to rely on impressment to meet expected quotas.

[7] Half-pay was a term used in the British Army and Royal Navy referring to the pay and allowances an officer received when in retirement, or not in active duty service.

[8] Spotswood was appointed lieutenant governor under the nominal governorship of George Hamilton, 1^stEarl of Orkney in 1710. As Hamilton never ventured to the American colonies, the lieutenant governor, upon appointment, became the de factoCrown authority within the colony. Owing to his adversarial relationship with the Virginia Council, and with James Blair in particular —a very powerful adversary, Spotswood was recalled in 1722.

[9] Lawrence Washington (1718–1752) was an American soldier, planter, politician, and prominent landowner in colonial Virginia. As a founding member of the Ohio Company of Virginia, and a member of the colonial legislature representing Fairfax County, he also founded the town of Alexandria, Virginia on the banks of the Potomac River in 1749. Lawrence was the first of the family to live at the Mount Vernon estate, which he named after his Commanding Officer in the War of Jenkins’ Ear, Admiral Edward Vernon. When Lawrence Washington became ill with tuberculosis, he and his brother George travelled to Barbados, expecting that the warm climate would alleviate his ill health. Lawrence died at Mount Vernon the following year.

[10] Scurvy is a disease resulting from a lack of vitamin C. Early symptoms include weakness, tiredness, and soreness in the arms and legs. Without treatment, affected individuals experience decreased red blood cells, gum disease, loss of hair, and bleeding from the skin. If conditions worsen, poor healing of wounds occurs, personality disorders appear, and finally death from bleeding and infection.

[11] Spain’s mainland coastal possessions.

[12] In the entire regiment, Gooch trusted only 300 troops to perform their duties ashore.

[13] The Royal Marines were formed in 1755 as the Royal Navy Infantry. However, these Marines can trace their origins to the formation of the British Army’s Duke of York and Albany’s maritime regiment of foot on 28 October 1664. The Royal Marines have close ties with allied marine forces, particularly the United States Marine Corps and the Netherland’s Marine Corps (Korps Mariniers). Today, although have undergone many substantial changes over time, the Royal Marines remain an elite fighting force within the British armed forces.