Samoa consists of two main islands and four smaller islands. Human beings have inhabited these islands for around 3,500 years. The Samoan people have their own unique language and their own cultural identity. Owing to the seafaring skills of the Samoan people, early European explorers began to refer to these islands as the “Navigator Islands.”
Contact with Europeans began in the early 18thCentury. Dutch captain Jacob Roggeveen first sighted the islands in 1722. He was followed by the French explorer Louis-Antoine de Bougainville in 1768. European contact was limited before 1830, but in that year British missionaries and traders began to arrive, led by John Williams (London Missionary Society) who traveled there from the Cook Islands. Robert Louis Stevenson lived in Samoa from 1889 to 1894.
Of all the European explorers, Germany alone demonstrated a keen interest in the commercial development of the Samoan Islands, particularly in the processing of copra and cocoa beans on the island of Upolu. The United States also had an interest in Samoa, particularly in the establishment of a coaling station at Pago Pago Bay. To this end, the Americans forced alliances on the islands of Tutuila and Manu’a, which later became American Samoa. Not to be undone, the British sent troops to protect their business interests, harbor rights, and consulate offices. During an eight-year civil war, Germany, Great Britain, and the United States provided arms, training, and in some instances, combat troops to the warring Samoan natives. The Samoan Crisis came to a head in 1889 when all three colonial competitors sent warships into Apia harbor; a larger war seemed imminent until a massive typhoon destroyed the warships in the harbor.
A second civil war came in March 1898 when Germany, the United Kingdom, and the United States were locked in dispute over which of these should control the Samoan Islands. The first battle involved British and American forces seeking to prevent a rebel takeover of the city of Apia. When rebel forces (urged-on by the Germans) launched their attack, Anglo-American forces responded by directing naval gunfire against rebel positions surrounding Apia, which ultimately forced the rebels to retreat to the stronghold of the Vailele plantation.
American and British naval forces included cruisers USS Philadelphia, HMS Tauranga, HMS Porpoise and the corvette HMS Royalist. On 1 April, Philadelphia, Tauranga, Porpoise and Royalist landed an expedition totaling 26 Royal and American Marines, 88 Royal and US sailors, and 136 Samoans for an attack on the landward side of Vailele. Royalist was sent ahead to bombard the two fortifications guarding the Vailele plantation. As the landing force moved inland, it no longer enjoyed the protection of naval gunfire. Upon their approach to Vailele, British and American troops were overwhelmed by rebel forces. It was a defeat for the British and Americans, but three of America’s combatants are of particular interest.
U. S. Navy Ensign John R. Monaghan was born in Chewelah, Washington on 26 March 1873. He was in the first graduating class of Gonzaga University and later graduated from the United States Naval Academy in June 1895. After graduation, he served as a midshipman aboard USS Olympia (flagship of the US Asiatic Station) where he was commissioned an ensign in 1897. Monaghan was later transferred for duty aboard the monitor Monadnock and the gunboat USS Alert. During the Spanish-American War, Ensign Monaghan was transferred to USS Philadelphia, flagship of the Pacific Station .
Lieutenant Philip Van Horne Lansdale was born in Washington, D. C., on 15 February 1858. He was commissioned an ensign on 1 June 1881 and subsequently served on Asiatic, North Atlantic, Mediterranean, and Pacific Stations. Promoted to lieutenant in 1893, he became the executive officer (second in command) of Philadelphia on 9 July 1898. After participating in the ceremonies which transferred sovereignty of the Hawaiian Islands to the United States, Philadelphia was dispatched to Samoa, arriving off Apia on 6 March 1899. Lansdale was the officer commanding the landing force on 1 April 1899.
Private Henry Lewis Hulbert was born in Kingston Upon Hull, East Yorkshire, England on 12 January 1867. He was raised in a cultured home environment, he was well-educated, and he was adventurous. He entered the British Colonial Civil Service and was posted to Malaya. While there, he married Anne Rose Hewitt, but it was a nasty marriage and one that ended in a publicly visible, very embarrassing scandal. Hulbert left Malaya and traveled directly to the United States. At the age of 31-years, Hulbert joined the U. S. Marine Corps on 28 March 1898. After completing his initial training at Mare Island, California, he was assigned to the Marine contingent aboard Philadelphia. Private Hulbert was one of the 200-man landing force on 1 April 1899.
Philadelphia arrived at Apia, which was the main port on the island of Upolu (largest of a group of six islands) on 8 March 1899, and the center of the Samoan disturbance. A conference was held at once between British and American naval commanders, their respective consuls, and local government officials. They were looking for ways to preserve the peace. German interests were not represented at this meeting owing to the fact that the Germans were behind the rebellion. On 11 March, Rear Admiral Kautz, having assumed responsibility for joint operations, issued a proclamation addressed to the Samoan high chiefs and residents of the island, both native and foreign. In general, he called for all concerned to return to their homes and obey the laws of Samoa. Every effort was made to influential citizens to prevail upon warring factions to obey the proclamation and to recognize the authority of the Chief Justice of Samoa.
It was on 13 March 1899 at about ten o’clock p.m. that the rebel leader answered the proclamation by attacking Apia and concentrating their fire upon British and American consulates and at Mulinu’u Point, where women and children had taken refuge. Within moments, US Marines and blue jackets went over the side and headed for Mulinu’u Point to protect the defenseless women. A series of well-aimed volleys dispersed the rebels at that location, but the Americans received sniper fire throughout the night.
Over the next several days, US and British forces constructed trenches and breastworks extending along the outskirts of Apia; nights were occupied fighting off rebel forays attempting to discover weak areas along the defensive perimeter.
On 31 March, Lieutenant C. M. Perkins, Commanding Officer of the Marine Detachment, USS Philadelphia, led a reconnaissance force consisting of sixteen riflemen and a machinegun crew into the jungle outside Apia. Perkins encountered a vastly superior force of rebels, forcing him to withdraw back to the edge of town, to the American Consulate.
Rear Admiral Kautz ordered that a larger landing force be organized for the next day. Commanding the landing force was Lieutenant Freeman, Royal Navy. The Americans would serve under Lieutenant Philip Lansdale, who was assisted by Lieutenant C. M. Perkins and Ensign John Monaghan. Accompanying the combined force were an additional 136 natives, indifferently armed, poorly disciplined, with some of these men suspected rebel sympathizers. British and American forces did not trust them and established a “color line” across which no Samoan could be allowed to cross.
On 1 April, the expedition had only just crossed the point at which the previous day’s battle had taken place when they were engaged by an estimated 1,200 rebels who had concealed themselves in the thick forest. Lieutenant Freeman was almost immediately killed; shortly afterwards, Lieutenant Lansdale was shot in the leg, rendering him unable to walk. In spite of his painful wound, Lansdale continued to fire at the rebels who were rapidly approaching him with rifles and beheading knives.
Realizing Lansdale’s dangerous predicament, Ensign Monaghan organized a number of blue jackets to form a defensive perimeter around their fallen leader. Monaghan struggled to remove his superior from the battle area; the sailors fought off the savages for as long as they could, but they were being overwhelmed. Finally realizing the hopelessness of his situation, Lansdale ordered a general retreat.
As the force began its extraction, Private Hulbert stepped up calmly delivering deadly fire upon the approaching Samoan forces. The Lansdale party slowly worked their way to the rear in withdrawal, but Lieutenant Lansdale received a gunshot wound to the chest. It was a mortal wound from which would not recover. Seaman N. E. Edsall joined Hulbert in laying down accurate fire as Monaghan continued in his attempt to remove Lieutenant Lansdale’s body from the field. Moments later, both Monaghan and Edsall were killed. Private Hulbert executed a fighting withdrawal.
Private Hulbert survived the battle and received a commendation from the Secretary of the Navy on 22 May 1899, which stated in part, “The gallantry of Private Henry L. Hulbert, who remained behind at the fence till the last and who was with Lansdale and Monaghan when they were killed, I desire especially to mention.”
Private Hulbert was subsequently awarded the Medal of Honor for this engagement; he was later killed at the Battle of Blanc Mont Ridge in France on 4 October 1918. He was, at the time of his death, a 51-year old First Lieutenant, already slated for promotion to Captain. His personal decorations include the Medal of Honor, Navy Cross, Distinguished Service Cross, Purple Heart, and French Croix de Guerre.
 Rear Admiral Albert Kautz, U. S. Navy, Commander, Pacific Station.
A good friend recently sent me a book review by Mark Bowden, which I can only assume appeared in The Atlantic. Bowden is best known for writing Black Hawk Down: A story of Modern War. The subject of Bowden’s review is a book titled Eat the Apple: A memoir, by Matt Young.
“The trouble with writing the unvarnished truth in a memoir is that it requires you to be hard not only on others, but also on yourself. Matt Young’s inventive, unsparing, irreverent and consistently entertaining [book] is that, but it is also a useful corrective to the current idealization of the American soldier —or in this case a Marine. Patriotism and respect for the military is so high in this country that we have lately held a national debate over whether professional athletes should be required to stand for the national anthem. Men and women in uniform are given preference in boarding airplanes and are so routinely thanked for their service that the expression has become rote. Each new season brings a crop of movies and glossy TV serials dramatizing the heroics of our Special Operations.”
“[Matt] Young see’s hollowness and potential harm in this.”
“Enforcing the idea that every service member is a hero is dangerous; like creating of generation of veterans who believe everything they did was good,” wrote Young.
Bowden tells us that Matt Young wants to warn us of the dangers in creating an army of fanatics. “[Military] service deserves respect, of course, but it does not in itself guarantee stirring and selfless acts of bravery.”
I’m quite sure that I won’t read Matt Young’s book. I already know about military service and I might even suggest that I completed my career long before Mr. Young enlisted. Still, some things go without saying. Given the nature of our Armed Forces, and the fact that the military services host hundreds of occupational specialties —all of which support the efforts of front-line forces— only about one-third of our 1.4 million military service members serve in the combat arms … which is the place where we’ll find most heroes if we happened to be looking for them. Nevertheless, courageous acts aside, very few of these selfless individuals are without sin. A split second of bravery doesn’t make a soldier a good husband, a good father, or even a trustworthy friend.
Now about those fanatics Mr. Young is worried about. I am unable to speak about the other services, but I can say that it is the purpose of Marine Corps training to turn every Marine into a lethal killing machine. This is how battles are won. If it is fanaticism, it is necessary to the success of combat units (and their combat/service support attachments). If at some future time, as a matter of national policy, we intend to arm milquetoast youngsters with weapons and send them into harm’s way, then our nation will no longer deserve an elite combat force.
Nevertheless, the Marine Corps isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. Roughly 40% of Marines reenlist after their first enlistment, which means that around 60% of everyone who joins the Marine Corps end up leaving at the end of their term of service. Of those who end up getting out of the Corps, probably less than 20% later whine about their service as American Marines. Once a first term Marine decides to leave the Corps, it almost isn’t relevant what it was that he or she did while wearing the uniform. One thing does remain, however: this individual became a United States Marine —and he or she will always be a United States Marine— even if a chronic complainer. If there is one thing that every Marine has in common, whether an officer or an enlisted man, it is the amount of complaining they do. If you find a Marine who isn’t complaining about something, keep an eye on him —he’s probably stealing from the supply section.
Still, no matter what Matt Young says in his book, it isn’t enough to join the Corps. Almost anyone can do that. Moreover, almost anyone can end up in a combat unit. What matters to me is an honest answer to these questions: Have you served honorably and faithfully in an extremely chaotic environment over an extended period of time? During your service as a Marine, did you keep faith with your fellow Marines, past and present?
One will note that I didn’t say it was necessary that the Corps keep faith with us … only that we Marines keep faith with each other because this is the foundation of our brotherhood; this is what the Marine Corps has always been about.
I do have a bother, however —it is this: young Marines returning from combat, where they formed intense bonds with their fellow Marines, who suddenly find themselves isolated in a completely different environment. Many of these young men are soon released from active duty and find themselves in the midst of a society that does not understand what they’ve just been through or the things they did for their country. They are at a place where there is no safety net, and where no one is watching their six —a place where many young men and women struggle to maintain a sense of who they once were only a short time before. We seem to have plenty of time for classes on gender and civility, but there appears to be no time at all for combat decompression. Ours is not (and never has been) a good transition. We (the Marines) could do a lot better in this regard. Personally, I see this as a monumental failure of senior leadership.
The photograph that appears within my last paragraph is that of the iconic James Blake Miller, a Marine who fought in the Second Battle of Fallujah. The photograph was widely published in the American press; he was tagged “Marlboro Marine.” Jim Miller suffers from PTSD and is now in recovery. In my opinion, senior leaders in the Marine Corps deserted this young Marine when what he needed from them was the kind of leadership espoused by Lieutenant General John A. Lejeune, our 13th Commandant. We talk about this leadership annually as part of our celebration of the Marine Corps Birthday. Apparently, modern leaders of the Corps would rather talk about it than to act on it. In my opinion, Jim Miller and thousands of men just like him qualify as being among our nation’s greatest of young patriots.
This post was previously published at my other blog, which I have since re-titled Old West Tales. Since this particular post no longer fits that profile, I’ve re-posted it here.
At the outset of the American Revolution, Great Britain’s governor in Virginia recognized that stores of arms and gunpowder within his control were now threatened by colonial rebels. Accordingly, he directed that these stores be removed from Virginia and transported to New Providence Island in the Bahamas. In August 1775, General Gage  alerted Governor Montfort Browne, the governor of the Bahamas, that rebels might undertake operations to seize these supplies.
Gunpowder was in short supply in the Continental Army. It was this critical shortage that led the Second Continental Congress to direct planning for a naval expedition to seize military supplies in Nassau. Congressional instructions issued to Captain Esek Hopkins, who had been selected to lead the expedition, simply instructed him to patrol and raid British naval targets along the Virginia/North Carolina coastline. Hopkins may have been issued additional instructions in secret, but we know that before sailing from Delaware on 17 February 1776, Hopkins instructed his fleet  to rendezvous at Great Abaco Island in the Bahamas.
Upon sailing, the fleet encountered gale-force winds but in spite of this, the fleet managed to say together for two days. Then, Fly and Hornet became separated. Hornet was forced to return to port for repairs, while Fly did eventually rejoin the fleet. Undeterred by the loss of two ships, Hopkins continued his mission believing that the gale had forced the British fleet in to port.
In late February, Governor Browne became aware that a rebel fleet was in the process of assembling off the coast of Delaware. In spite of this, he took no action to prepare an adequate defense. There were two primary defense works at New Providence: Fort Nassau and Fort Montagu. Fort Nassau was poorly equipped to defend the port against amphibious raids; its walls were not strong enough to support its 46-cannon. Fort Nassau’s poor state prompted the British to construct Fort Montagu on the eastern end of the harbor in 1742, a position that commanded the entrance to the harbor. At this time, Fort Montagu was fortified with 17-cannon but most of the gunpowder stores and ordnance was held at Fort Nassau.
Hopkins’ fleet arrived at Abaco Island on 1 March 1776. It soon captured two sloops owned and operated by British loyalists, one of whom was Gideon Lowe of Green Turtle Cay. Hopkins pressured the owners to serve as pilots. George Dorsett, a local ship’s captain, escaped capture and alerted Browne of Hopkins’ arrival.
On the next day, Hopkins directed the transfer of Marines to Providence and the two captured sloops; plans were formulated for an amphibious assault. The main fleet would hold back as three ships carrying the landing force entered the harbor at daybreak on 3 March. The intention was to gain control of the town before an alarm could be raised.
As it turned out, a daybreak assault was a huge mistake because the alarm was sounded when the three ships were observed entering the harbor in the morning light. Roused from his bed, Governor Browne ordered four guns fired from Fort Nassau to alert the militia. Unhappily, two of these guns came off their mounts at the moment they were fired. At 0700, Browne held a council of war with Samuel Gambier. Browne wondered whether he should remove the gunpowder to the Mississippi Packet, a fast ship then docked in the harbor. It was a good idea, but Browne failed to act on it. Ultimately, Browne ordered thirty unarmed militia to occupy Fort Montagu before retiring to his home for his morning ablutions.
The landing force realized that they had been discovered the moment they heard the guns fired at Fort Nassau; the element of surprise was lost, and the assault was aborted. Hopkins signaled his fleet to rejoin at Hanover Sound, some six nautical miles east of Nassau. When the ships were assembled, Hopkins consulted with his captains to rethink the plan of attack . The landing force was increased by fifty sailors. Along with the Wasp, the three ships of the landing force would proceed to a point south and east of Fort Montagu (pictured right). The Marines made an unopposed landing between noon and 1400 … it was the first amphibious landing of what became the United States Marine Corps.
Hearing commotion, a British lieutenant by the name of Burke led a detachment of troops out from Fort Montagu to investigate. Suddenly finding himself significantly outnumbered, he sent a flag of truce to determine the intentions of these men. He was quickly informed, and perhaps even forthrightly so, that it was their purpose to seize military stores.
Meanwhile, Governor Browne (now freshly coiffed) arrived at Fort Montagu with another eighty militiamen (some of whom were actually armed). Upon being informed of the size of the landing force, Browne ordered three of Fort Montagu’s guns fired and then withdrew all but a few men back to Nassau. In Nassau, he ordered the militia back to their homes; he retired to the governor’s house to await his fate.
Sometime later, Governor Browne sent Lieutenant Burke to parley with the rebel force. Burke was instructed to “wait on command of the enemy and know his errand, and on what account he has landed troops here.”
The firing of Montagu’s guns had given Captain Nicholas  some pause for concern even though his Marines had already occupied the fort. He was consulting with his officers when Lieutenant Burke arrived and stated Governor Browne’s message. Nicholas restated that their mission was to seize the military stores, adding that they intended to do this even if they had to assault the town. Burke carried this message back to Browne; Nicholas and his Marines remained in control of the fort throughout that night —which was another mistake.
That night, Governor Browne held a council of war. The decision was taken to attempt the removal of the gunpowder. At midnight, 162 of 200 barrels of gunpowder were successfully loaded aboard the Mississippi Packet and HMS St. John. The ships sailed at 0200 bound for St. Augustine. This feat was made possible because Commodore Hopkins had anchored his fleet in Hanover Sound, neglecting to post a single ship at the entrance of the harbor.
On the next morning, Captain Nicholas and his Marines occupied Nassau without encountering any resistance. In fact, the Marines were met by a committee of city officials who offered up the keys to the city. Commodore Hopkins and his fleet remained in Nassau for two weeks, loading as much weaponry as he could fit into his ships—including the remaining casks of gunpowder. Hopkins also pressed into service the Endeavor to transport some of the materials.
Governor Browne complained that the rebel officers had consumed most of his liquor stores during their occupation (which is probably true), and that he was placed in chains like a felon when he was arrested and taken aboard Alfred —which is also likely true.
Hopkins’ fleet sailed for Block Island off Newport, Rhode Island on 17 March 1776; he took with him Governor Browne and other British officials as prisoners. On 4 April, the fleet returned to Long Island where they encountered and captured HMS Hawk. The next day, the captured HMS Bolton, which was laden with stores including armaments and gunpowder. Hopkins met stiff resistance on 6 April when he encountered HMS Glasgow, a sixth-rate ship , but the outnumbered Glasgow managed to escape capture and severely damaged Cabot, wounding her captain, who was Hopkins’ son, John Burroughs Hopkins, and killing eleven crew. Hopkins’ fleet returned to New London, Connecticut on 8 April.
Governor Browne was eventually exchanged for the American general William Alexander  (Lord Stirling). Browne came under severe criticism for his handling of the defense of Nassau, even though Nassau remained poorly maintained and was subjected to American threats again in early 1778.
Commodore Hopkins, while initially lauded for the success of the assault upon Nassau, his failure to capture HMS Glasgow and complaints from fleet crewman resulted in several investigations and courts-martial. In spite of the fact that his crew suffered from disease, the captain of Providence was relieved of his command, which was turned over to John Paul Jones —who received a commissioned as captain in the Continental Navy. Eventually, Commodore Hopkins was forced out of the Navy due to further missteps and accusations relating to his integrity.
The Second Continental Congress promoted Captain Samuel Nicholas to the rank of major and placed him “at the head of the Marines.”
 Thomas Gage (1718-1787) was a British general officer and colonial official who had many years of service in North America. He served as the British Commander-in-Chief in the early days of the American Revolution.
 Hopkins’ fleet consisted of the following ships: Alfred, Hornet, Wasp, Fly, Andrew Doria, Cabot, Providence, and Columbus. The fleet consisted of 200 Continental Marines under the command of Captain Samuel Nicholas.
 Hopkins’ executive officer was John Paul Jones. Initially, it was believed that Jones urged Hopkins toward a new point of attack and then led the assault. This notion has been discredited because unlike most other of Hopkins’ subordinates, Jones was unfamiliar with the local area. It was more likely that the assault was led by one of Cabot’s lieutenants, Thomas Weaver.
 Samuel Nicholas (1744-1790) was the first commissioned officer of the Continental Marines; by tradition, he is considered the first Commandant of the United States Marine Corps.
 A sixth-rate ship of the British navy typically measured between 450-550 tons, contained 28-guns, and had a crew of about 19 officers, including the captain, two lieutenants, chaplain, and Royal Marine lieutenant. Quarterdeck warrant officers included the ship’s master, surgeon, assistant surgeon, purser, gunner, bosun, carpenter, two master’s mates, four midshipmen, and a captain’s clerk. The rest of the crew were lower deck ratings.
 At the beginning of the American Revolution, Alexander was commissioned a colonel in the New Jersey colonial militia. His personal wealth permitted him to outfit the militia at his own expense and he was willing to spend his own money in support of patriot causes. During an early engagement, Alexander distinguished himself leading volunteers in the capture of a British naval transport. By an act of the Second Continental Congress, Alexander was commissioned Brigadier General in the Continental Army.
During the Battle of Long Island, Alexander led an audacious attack against a superior British army under General William Howe. Taking heavy casualties, Alexander was forced to withdraw, which he did in an orderly and distinguished manner. During this withdraw, he inflicted heavy casualties upon the British, who were in pursuit. Alexander’s brigade, overwhelmed by a ratio of 25-to-one, Alexander was taken prisoner. Because of his actions, American newspapers hailed him as “the bravest man in America.”
Alexander was exchanged as a prisoner for British Governor Montfort Browne and promoted to major general. He subsequently became one of George Washington’s most trusted generals.