Radio Script #340
Little Talks On Common Things
June 2, 1957
Many a young man who enlisted in those easy-going, locally recruited and locally led regiments that fought for the colonial cause in the American Revolution, was mighty glad to cal I it a day when his short, six months’ enlistment expired. Altogether too few of them tried a second tour of that precarious duty. But Asa Redington was not of that stripe. He was the kind of which true patriots are made, the kind of common soldier that made it possible for George Washington to lead bedraggled armies through to final victory. It was the exi stence of a sma II, but very effecti ve, body of experi enced sol di ers like Asa Redington that brought final success to the colonial arms.
After his discharge at the end of his first enlistment in December, 1778, Asa spent .the winter and spring at what the orphaned young man called his home in Wi Iton, New Hampshi reo By June the war spirit was again tinkling in his veins, so off he went on a second enlistment, this time for a full year. As Asa himself told it: “I again entered the Continental establishment and with severa I others marched to join the Army at Fishki lion the Hudson River.”
There Asa remained unti I November, when the Army went into winter quarters aT Danbury, Connect i cut. The Centenn i a I History of Watervi lie says that Asa was with Washington through the terrib Ie winter of Valley Forge, but that is a mistake. Valley Forge was the winter of 1777-78, and Asa Redington did not enter the army for the first time unti I the summer of 1778. The writer of the Centennial History evidently confused the winter quarters at Valley Forge in 1777-78 with those at Danbury in 1779-80. Though not so notorious .. and never given so much publicity as Valley Forge, the Danbury winter was terrible enough for the young men of the colonial regiments. Asa later reported that it was a wint”er of tremendous cold and deep snow, that provisions often ran short, and only with the greatest difficulty did the men find anything to wear on their feet, except to wrap them in rags.
But spring finally came, and Asa was then transferred to Col. Mi Iler’s regiment of infantry in the fighting lines, which Asa describes as tla tract of country be1″ween the enemy posts on York I sland and the American army”. From the histories of the Revolution we know that by York Island, Asa meant Manhattan Island, the City of New York proper, divided from the mainland by the short channe I that connects the East Ri ver with the Hudson. I n the sp ri ng of 1780 the Sriti sh he I d a II of the downtown city at the lower end of the is I and and a I I the rest of it except the northern end, where the colonial troops were intrenched on the he i ghts •
Apparently Asa was assigned to a kind of persistent raiding party, for this is the way he descri bes hi s early act i vi tv in New York: ‘!We acted as a ki nd of flying part-y, continually guarding and harassing a large space of country, ne~ ver camp i ng but one night ina p I ace for fear of be i ng attacked, as the enemy were conti nua Ily on the alert, seeking whom they might devour. We were not idle on our part”, playing the same game as theirs, cutting off and capturing small parties of them.” Then with Yankee impartiality he adds, “Much cruelty was p racti ced on both sides.”
Asa gives a vivid account of one of his company’s raids: f!About the middle of July we marched all night in a heavy rain, surprised and cut off a whole guard, right under the shadow of the enemy’s arti Ilery, ki lied a number aAd took Captain Ogden and 22 other prisoners. Before the big guns struck up their music we were off. Although we fled toward our own encampment at full speed, we were pursued by several hundred British cavalry, who overtook us about sunrise. Our whole party consisted of only 80 men. We immediately forded a stream and took to the woods, keeping in close order. For the better security of our prisoners: we tied them toge”ther. When they heard thei r friends approaching, they yelled at us, -‘Now we sha II be freed, and you wi II be ki lied or captured.’ We solemnly assured them “that before that should happen, we would shoot every mother’s son of them, and “that anyone who made the slightest noise when the British came nearer wou I d be k i I led i nstan”t Iy •
“So we kept moving rapidly through the woods, never once coming out on to cleared ground, never giving the Bjritish a chance for clear shots at us, though they knew ina genera I way where we were. Fina Ily we deci ded to ri sk a few sniping shots at “the British patrols, whereupon we surprisingly discovered that our pursuers had no muskets, but were armed on Iy with pistols. \\e were thus able to keep them at a respectfu I di stance. At length we came to a stream that could not be forded but could be crossed only by one bridge. We were successful, quickly crossed the bridge, and threw its planks into the river. Our frustrated pursuers then gave up the chase. If
Did you notice what Asa said about throwing planks into the river? Men of my age can remember that no longer ago than the turn of the present century many small bridges had loose planking. It was common construction for colonial bridges, and made it easy for Asa Redington and his 80 companions to heave a whole bridge floor into the river.
Asa was made one of a sma II guard to conduct the 23 pri soners to Ameri can headquarters at West Poi nt. Those p ri soners were not Bri ti sh regu I ar troops sent out from England, but American Tories who had joined the British cause.
They had actually come from di fferent parts of that 30-mi Ie route through whi ch Asa and his fe Ilow guardsmen were now conducting them. That exp I ai ns these words in Asa’s memoirs: “These prisoners, who had left their friends and had fought against their country, now began meeting old friends, as wei I as fathers, mothers, brothers and sisters. Those folk rushed out to the road only to see their relatives and friends wretched fugitives, tied together like felons. Though the women di d much wa i I ing and weep i ng 1 the p ri soners themse I ves p reserved a su I len silence.”
Asa says he de livered the prisoners at the headquarters of Major Genera I Howe 1 at a p laee ca lied Robi nson ‘s Farm. That farm has become famous in American history, for it was there in the summer of 1779, just one year before Asa Red i ngton came there with his p ri sone rs, that Bened i ct Amo I d had he I d his fateful meetings with Major Andre, to plan the treasonable surrender of West Po i nt.
A Ii tt Ie more than a year had now elapsed s i nee Asa! s second en Ii stment , and he was once again el igible for discharge. He received it at West Point in early July, and made his way home to Wi Iton, New Hampshire on foot, arriving the re on J u I Y 1 3 •
Whether Asa thought his war days were now ended we cannot be sure, but we suspect the war fever was now really in hi s system. We are therefore not surpri sed to learn that after operating fa II and winter in Wilton, he heeded the call for a third time. This time it was in response to what, in Revolutionary times, came as near as they could get to our idea of a draft. There was no recognized national government. Not even the Continental Congress could draft troops. But the individual colonies could at least make an attempt to force quotas from the towns. So, when New Hampshi re ca lied for its town of Wi Iton to furnish nine soldiers for the Continental Arrrt>/ in ~4arch, 1791, the town made inducements for men, especially young, unmarried men, to fill that quota. They agreed to give each man 20 head of young cattle, to be three years old when the man’s service of three years should expire. Asa points out that this stipend was in addition to the regular soldier’s pay of 40 cents a month. This time Asa Redington was really in for it. Here was no chance of getting home after six months or even a year. I f he were so I ucky as to escape Bri ti sh bu I lets , he wou I d be in the army for th ree long years. We I I, anyhow, Asa knew that was no picnic. He had been under fire, he had seen men die, he had known the cold and hunger of winter camp. Now he was off again on the last campaign of the long war that made America free.
Asa entered on his third enlistment in a local setting just as he had done before. He”marched off for camp in a company commanded by Captain Thompson, another Wi Iton man. But this time Asa was to get his first taste of genuine army discipline — something that was not readi Iy accepted by those New England mi Iitia yeomen, accustomed to ignoring such folderol as saluting officers and even accustomed to calling those officers by their first names. Too often they didn’t even I ive up to their terms of enlistment, but simply walked off home when things didn’t suit them.
It was Val ley Forge that put an end to such undisciplined fighting. The one constructive product of that terrible winter was that, when it ended, Baron Steuben had made Washington’s disorganized body of volunteer yeomanry an organized, disciplined army. It was that sort of thing that Asa Redington encountered when he suddenly found himself transferred to a regiment of infantry commanded by Col. Alexander Scammel. Scammel had himself been at Valley Forge and had there been thoroughly indoctrinated in the European disciplinary procedures so effectively introduced by Baron Steuben. Asa Redington had not encountered this sort of thing in his two previous enlistments, and he didn’t like it, not a bit. He said so emphatically in his memoi rs: !’We were put under severe discipline, maneuvering both by day and night. Scammel commanded in person and was very severe. He was a ta II, s lim man, near Iy seven feet in height, and being always on horseback, he could detect the least error as we maneuvered, and he punished it with extreme severity. In fact he demanded that every detai I be executed with the exactness of clockwork.” Asa Redington carried his dislike of Colonel Scammel through to the end.
At last, when the regiment was in front of Yorktown, in the final days before Cornwal lis’ surrender, Asa had a chance to show just how strongly he felt. Let us see just how he worded it in his memo i rs: “One day Col one I Scamme I was out reconnoitering’theenemy positions, accompanied by some other officers on horseback, when a party of British cavalry rushed upon them from a growth of pines, morta Ily wounded Scamme I and made hi m pri soner, though the rest escaped. He was taken to Yorktown, but was soon returned to the Americans under a flag of truce. He was then sent to Williamsburg and I was requested to go along and assist in taking care of him. I decided did not owe him so much good wi I I, so I dec I i ned. My mess mate Uri ah Ba II ard was se lected in my p I ace. He went to Wi Iliamsburg with the Colonel and remained with him unti I he died. The men did not regret hi s loss, but sai d it was a just payment for hi s extreme severity. n
And wiTh that caustic comment about his commanding officer.~ let us leave Asa Redi ngton unti I next week. Then I want to te II you that rare th i ng, the comments of a common man on a great moment of hi story. For present, when Cornwallis surrendered his whole army to George Washington at Yorktown, was young Asa Redington, and he put into his memoirs his vivid, detai led recollection of that momentous event.
For our remaining minutes tonight, let us examine an interesting sidelight on Colby Col lege in its early days. The information is furnished me by Judge Wi II i am Burgess of Fa i rf i e I d, who some forty years ago was a student of mine at Hebron Academy. Judge Burgess’ grandfather, Wi r liam E. Burgess, attended Watervi I Ie Co liege in 1828, on Iy ten years after Jeremi ah Chap lin opened the first classes. The entire student enrollment totaled 33; all of them men, for women would not be admitted unti I more than forty years later. The faculty consisted of three men: President Chaplin, Reverend Stephen Chapin in Sacred Theology, and Professor Thomas Jefferson Conant in Latin and Greek. Not unti I the next year, 1829, was there a professor of mathematics.
Reverend Oti s Sri ggs, who was the ori gi na I secretary of the co liege trustees, served a Iso as the college treasurer unti I Ti mothy Boute lie was elected to that office in 1831. So, when Burgess was in college in 1828, he paid his co liege bills to OTi s Sri 9gs. Let us see what a bi I I issued to Burgess in the spri n9 of 1828 looked like:
HWi I I i am E. Burgess. To Watervi lie College, Dr. To one term’s rent $2.30, proportion of expense of sweeping entries 17 cents, for repairs 95 cents. Total $3.42 for term beginning Apri I 7 and ending J u I Y 1, 1 828 • Credit, by lock put on his door in No. 28 — 72 cents. Balance due $2.70. Rece i ved payment, May 22, 1828. o. Sri ggs, Agent.”
As I have often poi nted out on th is program, those were the days when changes were sti II frequently made in shi Ilings. So the next November Burgess rece i ved a b i I I from Watervi I Ie Co liege for th ree weeks room rent at one sh i Iling a week, tota I 50 cents.
By November, 1829 Burgess considered himself ready to teach. So he proceeded to arm hi mse If with the necessary credenti a Is. He presented hi mse I f for oral examination by David Wheeler, a member of the superintending school committee of the town of Waterville, and received from Wheeler the following statement: HThis certifies that I have examined Mr. \,/i Iliam E. Burgess and find him wei I qualified TO instruct youth in reading, writing, English grammar: arithmetic, and other branches usually taught in common schools according to law. It
But Burgess was taking no chances. He reinforced the Wheeler statement wi th one from the great scho I ar of Watervi lie hi mse If. I tread = nFrom the character of the gent lemen who have recommended the bearer, Mr. Wi Iii am Bur- gess (with some of whom I have had the pleasure of a personal acquaintance) I feel satisfied that he is a young man of correct morals and wei I qualified to teach the usual branches of an English education. Signed, Jeremiah Chaplin.”
How is it possible that Burgess could have been a student at the college, and yet President Chaplin be able to make only a second-hand statement about him? The answer is that in the one year when Burgess attended classes, Chaplin had been away most of the time, trying to raise money for the infant col lege and performing duties for the Baptist Convention. He just didn’t know the students who were there for that one year on I v.
Wei I, anyhow, that is the way the grandfather of Fairfield’s present municipal judge got a job teaching school in Watervi lie.