Читать книгу Aaron Burr: A Biography - Nathan Schachner - Страница 30

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During that winter of 1777-8, Burr’s active mind teemed with plans. He hated the enforced idleness, the dreary round of routine, the loss of morale and the widespread suffering. He submitted to Washington a carefully thought-out plan for a sudden attack against the British forces encamped on Staten Island, and offered to lead it himself. Washington turned the plan down. But there was another job which it was felt suited the young Colonel’s particular talents. What he had done with the erstwhile rebellious, slack-living regiment he commanded had not escaped notice.

A body of militia occupied an important strategic pass known as the Gulf, some eight or ten miles away from the main camp. Their discipline was of the loosest, and time hung heavy on their hands. Some wit conceived the brilliant idea of raising false alarms at regular intervals, so that the bored militia might enjoy the spectacle of the hurried commotion and frenzied arming of the troops at Valley Forge. Surely a nice, innocent pastime, especially in wartime! But the ragged, starving Continentals surprisingly resented being dragged out of their poor enough beds to shiver in the cold. General McDougall, who had formed a vast respect for young Burr’s abilities ever since Brooklyn Heights, suggested to Washington that he was the one man in camp to put a stop to such nonsense.

Burr did. He took command of the regiment of practical jokers, kept them under constant, unremitting drill all day, shifted them by quick, forced marches from position to position, instituted a system of rigid policing, made it his business to pay sudden surprise visits to the sentinel lines at all hours of the night and every night, and kept them on the jump generally until the militiamen, astounded at the taste of real army discipline, determined to murder this martinet youngster who was riding them ragged.

Burr heard of the conspiracy. Without saying a word, he secretly caused the bullets to be drawn from the muskets, and, that night, ordered the rebellious troops to be formed for retreat. Alone he marched along the sullen ranks, saber in hand, eying the men closely. Suddenly, as he came opposite one of the ringleaders, the man stepped forward, leveled his musket, shouted in a loud voice, “Now is your time, my boys,” and snapped his empty gun. The young Colonel, quick as light, slashed down with his saber. The blade sliced through the mutineer’s right arm, wounding it so badly that it had to be amputated the next day. That ended the mutiny, then and forever. There was some talk of a court-martial for this rough-and-ready method of enforcing discipline, but nothing came of it. Colonel Burr was evidently not a man to be trifled with.

In March, 1778, Malcolm’s Regiment, commanded by Burr, was removed from Conway’s Brigade and placed in the left wing of Lord Stirling’s division. With the coming of summer the war emerged from its frozen quiescence into renewed activity.

The French had finally decided to join openly in the affray, and thereby made the purely local war one of worldwide proportions. Sir Henry Clinton had superseded the amiable, slow-moving Howe in command of the British forces at Philadelphia. With the advent of the French, and believing that the troops at his disposal did not justify a farflung front, he determined to evacuate the Quaker town and concentrate on New York as a base of operations.

Accordingly, he moved out, bag and baggage, and marched across the Jerseys to his proposed destination. Washington broke up camp at Valley Forge and started in pursuit. He caught up with the enemy at Monmouth, and engaged in battle on June 28, 1778.

Colonel Burr and his regiment were in the left wing of the American army, under Lord Stirling’s command. Charles Lee, just returned from captivity with the British, and now Major-General, led the attack. At first the Americans were victorious; then Lee made those incomprehensible and disastrous moves which effectually threw away all chance for success and put the enemy in a position to threaten their left flank. Washington galloped up in a passion, swore roundly at the man who had snatched almost certain victory from his grasp, and ordered the lowering General off the field. Then he took personal command, and re-established the lines; but it was too late. Clinton was able to withdraw his forces intact and pursue his interrupted march.

Colonel Burr commanded a brigade during the battle, consisting of his own regiment and some Pennsylvania troops. Shortly after the general action commenced, he discovered a detachment of the enemy breaking out of a patch of woods. Instantly he put his brigade into motion to stop the threat to Stirling’s flank. To make contact it was necessary to cross a muddy lake over which a bridge had been thrown. Half of the brigade had passed over successfully under a galling enemy fire; the other half was advancing on the double-quick. Colonel Barber, aide to Washington, rode up with orders from his Chief commanding a halt. Burr protested that in their present position they were exposed to the concentrated fire of the enemy without adequate support, and that the balance of the brigade must cross before a halt could safely be called. Barber repeated that his orders were peremptory, and Burr was forced to obey. As a result, the divided brigade, sundered by the intervening bridge, suffered severely under the fire of an overwhelming enemy. Lieutenant-Colonel Dummer, second in command, was killed, and Burr’s horse was shot under him. Sullenly and slowly, the advanced troops retreated back over the bridge. Another count in the reciprocal score between Colonel Burr and General Washington!