"Old men for council, young men for war," is a good maxim which was not regarded at this time. St. Clair was not only old and infirm, but weak and sick with an attack of gout, and at times almost helpless. Moreover, he had been very unfortunate in his military career in the Revolutionary War. Neither he nor the second in command, Maj.-Gen. Richard Butler, possessed any of the qualities of leadership save courage. The whole burden fell on the adjutant-general, Colonel Winthrop Sargent, an old Revolutionary veteran, without whom the expedition would probably have failed in ignominy even before the Indians were reached, and he showed courage and ability of a high order; yet in planning for battle he was unable to remedy to the blunders of his superiors.
Napoleon is quoted as saying. "Better an army of deer led on by a lion than an army of lions led on by a deer," In the light of subsequent events, this was much like an army of deer led on by a deer.
The troops were, for the most part, of wretched stuff. St. Clair was particularly unpopular in Kentucky, and no volunteers could be found to serve under him. The militia of Kentucky had been called on, and about one thousand reluctantly furnished by draft; but as they were all unfavorable to the commander-in-chief, many desertions took place daily. They seemed to think that the only possible outcome of this expedition was defeat.
St. Clair made his headquarters at Fort Hamilton, now Hamilton, Ohio, about twenty-five miles northward of Fort Washington, or Cincinnati.
The season was already advanced before St. Clair took the field. The whole force of regulars and levies able to march from Fort Washington did not much exceed two thousand men. Desertion reduced the number to about fourteen hundred before they had advanced far into the hostile territory. Continuing the march, however, on the 3d of November he encamped on a piece of commanding ground, within fifteen miles of the Miami villages. An interval of only seventy paces was left between the two wings of the army. The right was in some degree protected by a creek with a steep bank; the left by cavalry and pickets. Colonel Oldham, who commanded the remains of the Kentucky levies, was sent across the creek and took a position on the first rising ground beyond it, about a quarter of a mile distant. Indians were seen during the afternoon and evening, skulking about the camp, and were fired at by the sentinels, yet neither St. Clair nor Butler took any adequate measures to ward off the impending blow, or prevent a surprise. Indeed, they did not expect to be attacked.
Meantime the Indians were holding a grand war council. The plan of attack was decided, and the order and rank of the various tribes settled, and positions assigned them. The Wyandots stretched to the west; the Delawares were stationed next to them; the Senecas third in order, while the other tribes and bands took similar positions on the other side. The Turtle, acting as commander-in-chief, superintended and stimulated the whole, but headed no particular detachment; the arm of the warrior was to do much, but the eye and voice of the chieftain much more. Nothing happened during the night to alarm the Americans, and the noise and stir of the outskirts in the early part of the evening gradually subsided. All at length was silent, and it might well be supposed, as it probably was, that the enemy had taken advantage of the darkness of the night to make good a precipitate retreat, or that their whole force as yet consisted only of a few scouting and scalping parties. But they were soon undeceived.
On the morning of November 4, the militia were violently attacked between dawn and sunrise by a large body of Indians, who, with terrific yells, poured in a volley of musketry along the entire length of the picket line. Never was surprise more complete. The ranks of the militia were thrown into confusion at once by the fury of the onset, the heavy firing, and the appalling whoops and yells of the throngs of painted savages.
After a brief resistance they broke and fled in wild panic to the camp of the regulars, among whom they rushed like frightened sheep, spreading confusion and demoralization.
The troops sprang to arms as soon as they heard the firing at the picket line, and their volleys checked the onrush of the savages but only for a moment. The plumed warriors divided and filed off to either side, as if at the command of their leader, completely surrounding the camp, killing the pickets and advancing close to the main lines.