NOTES
[1] This regiment was composed of eight companies and numbered eight hundred men.
Haslet has well been called the father of the first Delaware regiment. He raised it before the Declaration of Independence was declared, and drilled it himself, taking the greatest pride in it. He was a native of Ireland, but at the time of the Revolutionary War was living at Dover, where his remains now lie.
[2] Haslet’s regiment, as will be hereafter seen, remained in the army only up to the battle of Princeton.
Patterson’s was a part of the “Flying Camp,” a body of men called out for temporary duty................... The regiment of Hall was the only Continental one we furnished.
[3] Brigadier General Thomas Mifflin wrote to Mr. Reed in January of 1777, “The officers (of the Delaware Regiment) in particular deserve the thanks and esteem of their country for the readiness shown by them to turn out on all occasions.”
“One paragraph of the old man’s letter is very full of the great honor obtained by the Delaware Battalion in the affair at Long Island. From the unparalleled bravery they showed in view of all the Generals and troops within the lines, who alternately praised and pitied them.”
Letter from Caesar Rodney to his brother.
Through the Revolutionary War, Delaware furnished more men in proportion to its size than any other colony in the Union.
[4] “Nothing,” said a report addressed to the President of Congress, “Nothing sir, can equal their sufferings except the patience and fortitude with which the faithful part of the army endure them.”
[5] From the time the Delaware regiment started south, that is April 13th, 1780, until April 7th, 1782, they marched 5006 miles.
[6] In less than a month after the Declaration of Independence, Delaware had eight hundred men in the field, who fought at Brooklyn, White Plains, Trenton and Princeton. By April, 1777, we had another regiment of like number who fought at Brandywine, Germantown, Monmouth, Camden,—twice at Camden,—Cowpens, Guilford, and at Eutaw; and it never laid down its arms, though reduced almost to a corporal’s guard, until Cornwallis laid down his arms at Yorktown.
How Once Upon A Time
Washington Came
To Delaware.
AT ONE time Washington had his headquarters in Wilmington. It was late in the summer of 1777 and just before the Battle of Brandywine.
A few weeks earlier the British fleet had sailed out of New York harbor and had turned toward the south, with all the British army on board. No one knew where the fleet was going; no one knew where the army would land and make their next attack, and there was great anxiety.
General Washington and his army were at this time camped in Bucks county, north of Philadelphia. It was on August twenty-second that a hot and dusty messenger galloped into camp with news for the General that the British fleet had been seen in Chesapeake Bay.
As soon as Washington heard this news, orders were given to the army to break camp, and he marched with them down to Delaware, to be ready to meet the enemy, and to keep them from attacking Philadelphia, for that was then the capital of the colonies.
Wilmington at that time was still a small town. It had a few shops, a market house, and a fire engine company called the “Friendship.” A new ship-building company had just built and launched their first boat, which was named the “Wilmington.” But the most important of all the manufactories were the Brandywine flour mills, which stood on the Brandywine, some little distance above where it flows into the Christiana.[1] Washington had the “runners” (or upper stones) taken from these mills and hauled up into Chester County for fear they might be seized and used by the British.
Wilmington is very hilly. It has been said of it that it is “as full of lumps as a napkin thrown over a blackberry bush.”
The steep part of West Street that slopes up from Front to Fourth was called “Quaker Hill,” for almost all the houses that were there were owned by Quakers. The houses were built in a prim, plain fashion, but within they were full of comfort. Furniture, linen, food, were simple but of the best quality for the Friends knew how to live comfortably, in spite of their plain ways.
It was in one of these houses that Washington made his headquarters. The house is still standing, on the west side of the street, between Third and Fourth Streets.
A little beyond Quaker Hill was an old apple orchard, and still beyond that were the open country and the wooded hills of the Brandywine.
It was near the Brandywine that the army encamped. In the next few days soldiers might often be seen kneeling on the edge of the stream to wash their pieces of clothing. Their voices echoed through the woods in loud jokes and laughter. Sometimes a trooper in buff and blue brought a dozen clattering horses down to the water to drink.
Washington was busy sending and receiving dispatches, riding out to explore the country, and deciding where the best points were upon which to place his army.
By September the second, our army had been moved to the high lands near Newport, a few miles from Wilmington. In the afternoon of that day orders were given to cook provisions and to be ready to march at any time. The enemy were then near Newark, Delaware, but Washington had not yet been able to learn how many there were of them, nor where they meant to attack. However he sent a light corps (of about seven hundred and twenty men) down in their direction. These men were to hide in the woods and hollows, and to act as outposts in case the British marched toward Newark.
It was the next day, September the third, that the British began to advance toward White Clay creek,—a creek which lay between them and the Americans. For some miles above Newark the road was open, with fields and meadows on either hand, and the British marched along it undisturbed. But when the road dipped into the woods, the bullets began to sing about their ears like bees. Several of the British were wounded, for the American riflemen had hidden in the thickets and hollows of the woods and were shooting at them. The Americans were so well hidden that the British scarcely knew where to turn their fire. Some of the British companies left the road to look for them but got lost in a swamp, and had difficulty in finding their way back to firm ground.
For some miles this fire continued, but by the time the British had reached the Christiana creek, near Cooch’s Mill, the shots had almost stopped.
The bridge across the stream lay still and peaceful in the sunlight. There was no sound but the ripple of the water against the rocks, and a cow lowing in the distance.
The first company of the English had hardly set foot on the bridge however, when a hot fire of bullets poured out at them from the thickets beside the stream. A company of American riflemen had been lying there in ambush, and waiting for them. A moment later the Americans sprang out into the road with cheers, and charged upon them.
A sharp skirmish followed, but the British were too strong, and our men were driven back leaving several killed and wounded. The British, too, had their losses, though their loss was not as heavy as that of the Americans.
This skirmish at Cooch’s Bridge was the first warning Washington had that the British had advanced their army.
Knowing the British were only a few miles from him, Washington now expected an attack at any time, and decided to move his army to a high rise in the ground near Red Clay creek, which was a better position.
Mr. Caleb Byrnes, a miller, had a house on this high ground. Very early on the morning of September the seventh, he was awakened by the tramp of marching feet, the sound of loud voices shouting orders, and the clatter and rumble of gun wagons.
He slipped from bed and crossed to the window and looked out. There below, he saw long lines and companies of soldiers in buff and blue. Their bayonets glittered in the sunlight. Sweating horses were pulling cannon up the slope in front of the house.
Mrs. Byrnes slipped from bed and came over to look from the window, too. She was shivering with excitement.
“It’s the whole American army,” said Byrnes. He told his wife to waken the children and then he dressed as quickly as he could and hurried downstairs and out of the house.
An officer on horseback was there giving orders. The cannon had now been placed all along the high ground “for half a mile as thick as they could stand.”[2]
As soon as the officer saw Mr. Byrnes, he rode over to him and said, “You’d better get out of here as soon as you can. When the battle begins this house will be shot down and torn to pieces by cannon.”
“And my mill?” asked Mr. Byrnes, pointing to the mill, which stood about three-quarters of a mile down the road.
“That will probably go, too,” said the officer.
Mrs. Byrnes had now come to the door and stood listening. “Well, I’d rather stay right here,” she said. “If there’s a battle we’ll take the children and get under the big arch that is under the chimney in the cellar; there couldn’t anything hurt us there, anyway.”
Mr. Byrnes agreed with his wife that they had better stay; and in spite of the warnings of the officers they refused to move. Mr. Byrnes’ brother, who lived near the mill, also refused to leave his house. But the other neighbors packed up their furniture and took their families further up in the country, where they might be safe from the cannon. As it happened, they were no safer than the Byrnes after all, for on September the ninth, Washington found that the enemy were circling around him toward the north in the direction of Philadelphia, and he decided to move on and meet the British at Chadd’s Ford, and force a battle there.
Marching orders were given, and a few hours later the entire American army was gone from Delaware.
So ended Washington’s first stay in our state.
But there was another time when Washington was in Delaware. This second time he was no longer commander-in-chief of a struggling army but the President of the United States.
The war was over. Liberty was won, and the English had left our shores.
It was December of 1783, and Washington was to pass through Wilmington on his way from Philadelphia to Mount Vernon, where he was to eat his Christmas dinner.
People lined the road watching for his coach, and at the top of the hill children climbed into the trees of the apple orchard so as to see the better.
At last, from far up the road, came a sound of cheering; the coach was in sight. Nearer and nearer it came.
In it sat President Washington with his calm, noble face, and his powdered hair tied in a queue behind. His hat was off, and he bowed this way and that as the people waved and cheered him.
The Burgess and Council of Wilmington had prepared an address which was read to him and which he answered. It was only for a few hours that Washington was here this second time. A long ride was still before him, and soon he was in his coach again and rolling on his way.
For a while after the President’s coach had started, the little boys raced along beside him, then the horses broke into a trot that left the boys behind. The turn of the road was reached, the coach swung around it, and Washington’s last visit to Delaware was over.
