"Old Put" the patriot

by Frederick A. Ober

In the Lexington-Concord fight, the first engagement between British and native Americans, the former lost two hundred and seventy-three, and the latter about one hundred, in killed and wounded, twenty-three towns being represented among the wounded and slain. "It was not a great fight in itself, but it was great, and even grand, in its consequences. On that day a nation was born. Then the American learned for the first time how to stand and fight for their own liberties."

The rallying minutemen flocked to the scene of the encounter, springing to arms without a thought of consequences, rising to the defense of their homes as one man, and within a week there were sixteen thousand men investing the demoralized enemy at Boston. Their alacrity in assembling at the common rendezvous has been a matter of wonder ever since, for nearly all marched on foot, without the assistance of horses or steam. The writer of these lines had an ancestor who was foremost among those minutemen hurrying to the defense of liberty, and who, it is a tradition in his family, ran nearly all the way from Beverly, twenty miles distant, with his flint-lock on his shoulder. Hence, as all were equally prompt in leaping at the enemy's throat, Putnam's remarkable feat was not at the time considered extraordinary.

In a few days our hero was at home again, having been called to Hartford by the legislators, who were desirous of consulting with their most experienced warrior, and bestowed upon him the rank and title of brigadier-general. All these events took place within the space of a week's time, and before another week had passed Brigadier-General Putnam was in headquarters at Cambridge, occupying a house which stood within the present grounds of Harvard University. General Artemus Ward, of Massachusetts, was commander-in-chief of the forces, having been commissioned by the Provincial Congress; but Putnam was the greater favorite with the soldiers, in whose vocabulary (to paraphrase a saying common at the time) "the British were the Philistines, and Putnam, the American Samson, a chosen instrument to defeat the foe."

It is a matter of record that General Ward relied upon the advice of his old friend, with whom he had fought, under Abercrombie, at Ticonderoga, and kept him always within call at headquarters. Had he followed his advice more closely, however, it would have been better for their sacred cause, as was shown in the crucial test at the battle of Bunker Hill, when Putnam's repeated requests for reenforcements were at first denied, then so hesitatingly granted that they proved of small avail.

To Putnam, then, and not to Ward, the officers and men of the assembled militia looked for advice and encouragement. They were quite naturally doubtful as to the result of their hasty action, and as most of them had never been under fire they were timid and even down-hearted. But Putnam was continually engaged in arousing both their patriotism and their hopes. When General Warren asked him (wrote Putnam's son Daniel, many years later) "if 10,000 British troops should march out of Boston, what number, in his opinion, would be competent to meet them, the answer was, 'Let me pick my officers, and I would not fear to meet them with half that number—not in a pitched battle, to stop them at once, for no troops are better than the British—but I would fight on the retreat, and every wall we passed should be lined with the dead!'"

"Our men," the General said on another occasion, "would always follow wherever their officers led—I know this to have been the case with mine, and have also seen it in other instances." And as Putnam's record had long since proved that he always led, and asked no man to approach nearer the foe than he himself was willing to go, the soldiers were enthusiastic for "Old Wolf Put," the fighter, though lukewarm in their feelings toward the commander.

They did not admire the methods Putnam employed to keep them out of mischief—these raw and undisciplined militia, accustomed to do as they liked and to take orders from no man—for he kept them actively employed all the time. "It is better to dig a ditch every morning, and fill it up at evening, than to have the men idle," said Old Put, and though the men grumbled the results soon showed that he was right.

What they also needed more than anything else was confidence, and, in order to inspire that, he paraded some two thousand of them through Charlestown over the hills soon to become world-famous, and right in sight of the enemy. He did this several times, and on one occasion took with him his son Daniel, who wrote of it afterward: "I felt proud to be numbered among what I then thought to be a mighty host destined for some great enterprise."

Daniel was then only fifteen years of age, yet he performed a man's work, proving himself worthy of his parentage, and was his father's aide-de-camp and companion. During the progress of the battle at Bunker Hill he acted as the guard and defender of a British refugee's wife and family, and stoutly did his duty, boy that he was.

Perhaps the highest tribute paid to Putnam's prowess was the offer of his old-time friend and comrade, General Gage, the British commander-in-chief, to pay him a large sum of money, and secure him a major-generalcy in the British army, if he would desert the "rebel" cause and come over to that of the King. Putnam spurned this offer, of course, as did sturdy Colonel Stark, another comrade of the Indian wars, and several others. He was all the more active, if possible, in seeking out the enemy's weak points and in attempts to reduce his supplies.