Stories about General Warren, in relation to the fifth of March massacre, and the battle of Bunker Hill

by Rebecca Warren Brown

William. But, mamma, was it not on Bunker Hill the battle was fought? for you said just now it was Breed's Hill, and that they had not been able to fortify Bunker Hill. I thought they fortified that at first.

Mrs. M. No, my dear, they did not. They were directed to do it, but they found it would not answer so well, as it was too far from the enemy for them to reach her fleet and shipping from it with their balls. They therefore fortified Breed's Hill in preference.

Mary. Why then, mamma, was the battle called the battle of Bunker Hill?

Mrs. M. Because Bunker Hill was the only one which was distinguished by a name at that time; it was the one, too, which they had intended to occupy, and the battle was fought so near it that it was then designated by that name, which it has ever since retained, and it would be hardly worth while to alter it now.

William. No, mamma, I should think not. I should not like to have the name changed, for ever since I can remember, I have heard about the battle of Bunker Hill, and the death of Gen. Warren on it, and I should not know what it meant if I now heard of the battle of Breed's Hill, and I do not think I should think at all of him when it was thus spoken of. But I have interrupted you at the most interesting part. Gen. Warren, I think you said, had joined the Americans just as the battle was beginning.

Mrs. M. Yes, he had; the firing had already commenced. Among our commanders the only contention was, who should be foremost at the post of danger. Each was desirous himself to be placed where there was the greatest risk, and, therefore, the greatest honor. So soon as Gen. Warren reached the field of battle, he sought out Gen. Putnam, to request him to point out to him where he should find the most arduous service. As Putnam saw him approach, he exclaimed, "Gen. Warren, I am sorry to see you here: I wish you had left the day to us, as I advised you. From appearances we shall have a sharp time of it, but since you are here, I will receive your commands with pleasure." Warren replied, "I come as a volunteer, I know nothing of your arrangements, and will not interfere with them; only tell me where I can be most useful, and there I will go." Putnam, still earnest, if possible, to preserve him from danger, directed him to a particular spot, observing at the same time, "there you will be covered." But this was not what Warren wanted. "Do not think," he earnestly exclaimed, "I come here to seek a place of safety, tell me where the onset will be most furious, it is there I wish to be." Putnam then told him that the post he had pointed out was a most important one. That it was the first wish of the enemy to drive our soldiers from it; that Col. Prescott was there, determined to defend it as long as possible, for upon retaining it depended the fate of the battle. He added, that the probability was, the British would at last gain possession of it, but when it could be defended no longer, it would require great coolness and skill to bring off as many of our soldiers as possible, and retreat with order and regularity. Warren assented to the truth of this, said he would be governed by his opinions, and instantly went to the redoubt or post that was to be defended.

So soon as the soldiers saw him, they welcomed him with loud huzzas. Col. Prescott, as Putnam had before, asked him to take the command; he again refused it, and offered his services as a volunteer, saying, "I am happy to learn service from a soldier of experience."

The battle now commenced most seriously. Our soldiers had, as yet, no time to fortify Bunker Hill, though, if they were beat back from their fort, it was of the utmost importance this should be done; nor had they been able to complete their other works as they wished. It was too late now, for the enemy were already firing on them, unfinished as they were. All that could be accomplished, before the firing began, was for part of the soldiers to take post behind a rail fence, about two hundred and fifty yards in length, which they slightly fortified by placing another fence at a little distance from the first, and filling the space between the two with new mown hay. So soon as the tremendous discharge of cannon from the British began, her troops advanced to attack those stationed at the redoubt and at this fence. Our men were eager instantly to return the fire, but were not permitted to, until the enemy were within eight rods of them. Powder, Putnam told them, must not be wasted. "Do not fire until commanded. You must not fire until you see the whites of the eyes of your enemy, then fire low, take aim at their waistbands. You are all marksmen, and can kill a squirrel at the distance of a hundred yards; reserve your fire and the enemy are all destroyed. Aim at the handsome coats; pick off the commanders." Such were the orders of many of the American officers besides Putnam, as they rode through the lines of the different divisions which were stationed at the fence, and at the redoubt. The redoubt was 150 yards in front of the rail fence. As you may suppose, these instructions came home to the men, and encouraged and animated them, and gave them more confidence in themselves than any thing else that could have been said. Some few, in their eagerness to fire, did not wait the word of command, Putnam drew his sword and declared he would himself cut down the first who should disobey. Gen. Warren was among the most active, cheering the men by his words and actions; he mingled in their ranks, shared all their dangers, and with his musket stood ready to aid them in firing, the moment the enemy were near enough to render it prudent to fire. That moment had come. The British had approached within eight rods of the redoubt. The command was given, they fired, and nearly the whole front rank of the advancing army was destroyed. Another line, and still another, presented itself, and each was in turn levelled with the ground. For a short time there was a pause. The British were retreating. Putnam seized the moment to bring up some reinforcements from Bunker Hill. Howe, the British commander, meanwhile brought his troops once more into order, and was joined by some others from Boston, under the command of Major Small. Again the firing commenced. Our men were obliged to wait until the British were still nearer than the first. Not until they were within six rods were they now allowed to discharge their muskets. When they did, it was with still more deadly effect than before. The flames of Charlestown, to which the British had set fire, urged them on, and rank after rank of officers and men fell before them. The enemy could no longer stand their ground; they retreated once more, and left the field to our brave men. At this moment, Gen. Putnam saw one British officer standing alone, all around him had fallen. Many muskets were levelled at him; in a moment he would have shared the fate of his companions. At this eventful moment, Putnam perceived that it was an old friend and fellow soldier who was about to be destroyed: he rushed to the spot, knocked away the deadly weapons with his sword, and entreated the men to spare one whom he loved like a brother. They could not resist the appeal; the noble and daring generosity of the General excited their admiration and sympathy. His friend was permitted to retire unhurt.

Every thing now seemed to promise success to the cause of liberty. The field was our own. More than a thousand of the enemy had fallen, and a great number of their best officers were slain by our marksmen. But alas! at the very moment in which every thing seemed to smile upon our noble defenders, these defenders found the greatest reason to despair. So soon as they had leisure to look around them, they discovered that their ammunition was expended, their arms almost useless, and scarcely any thing to defend themselves from a renewed attack of the enemy, but the stones which partly formed their fort. Their only hope was, that as the loss of the British had been so great, they would not again make the hazardous attempt to drive them from their entrenchments. In this, their last hope, they were fatally disappointed. Some of the British officers were unwilling to lead their men again to an attack, where certain death seemed to await them, but the greater part of them were determined not to yield the victory to rebels, as they still called us. They collected all their strength, and once more advanced to the charge, resolved to take the redoubt which Gen. Putnam had pointed out to Gen. Warren as our most important point of defence, or perish in the attempt.

Every effort was made by our brave officers and soldiers to preserve this much contested spot; but the little ammunition they had been able to collect was soon exhausted. Even this little had not the effect their former discharges had. The British had learnt wisdom from experience, they approached with more caution, and kept their forces much closer together than before. When no more ammunition could be procured by our officers, stones were resorted to, as the last means of defence. This rather encouraged than repelled the enemy, as it showed they had nothing else to use. At last, in spite of every exertion it was in the power of men to make, who felt they were fighting for their country and their homes, the British gained possession of the redoubt. They were opposed at every step of their advance; the butt ends of the guns which the Americans could no longer fire, were made use of to keep them back; nothing was left undone. But it was all in vain. As fast as one party was beaten off, another would approach. All that our officers had now to do, was to endeavor to retreat with the men who yet remained, with as little loss as possible. This was done with the same bravery and skill they had displayed through the whole battle. Gen. Warren was the last to quit his post. He animated the men to the most desperate actions. With his own sword he cut down all who were around him. Every inch of ground which they relinquished, he considered as an indelible disgrace. To give up all they had toiled so hard to gain, to see the oppressors of his country in possession of a spot strewed with the bodies, and wet with the blood of those who had fought so nobly in her defence, was more than Warren could support. He felt that the liberties of that country had received their death blow, and life was now of no value to him. He slowly followed his countrymen, when he found they must yield, and disdained to quicken his steps, although the balls of the enemy were whizzing around him. There were some among his gallant opponents who would gladly have preserved his life, had it been in their power; among these was Major Small, the same officer who had been rescued by Putnam from a similar fate. He perceived Gen. Warren thus moving slowly on, regardless of, or rather seeming to court death. He called upon him for God's sake to stop, and take refuge with him from certain destruction. Warren turned and looked at him, but, too sick at heart to answer him, still kept on his perilous way, in full sight of his enemies. Small then ordered his men not to fire on him, but it was too late, they had seen him, and, before the command was heard, had fired. He was only about eighty rods from the redoubt he had defended so nobly, when the fatal ball reached him, passed through his head, and killed him instantly.