All these plans were frustrated by the great caution of Sullivan and the alertness of his lieutenants. When Major Parr, about noon, reported to his superior the situation of the enemy, Hand sent forward the riflemen to occupy the banks of the creek, within one hundred yards of the breastworks and under cover. The light brigade then moved to within three hundred yards and deployed in line of battle. Sullivan coming forward with the main army, sent Ogden’s flanking division along the river to the left of Hand’s light brigade and further to the west. He ordered Maxwell to remain in the rear in reserve. For a flank attack, he detached two brigades, Poor’s New Hampshire and Clinton’s New York, to move to the right and north. They were to make their way up the swampy valley, and gain, if possible, the enemy’s left and rear. In order to divert attention from this flank attack, Hand’s light corps opened in the center, while Proctor’s nine guns were run forward and posted on a hillock, directly in front of the angle of the breastworks and about two hundred yards distance from them. As everything had to be done in a rough country in the woods, on a fearfully hot day, it took several hours to get the batteries and the brigades into position.
Then opened a lively fusilade, of small arms, which held the attention of the enemy. It was proposed to allow until three o’clock for Poor and Clinton to reach the top of the hill (now called Sullivan’s Hill, on which the lofty monument stands), whence they were to turn and charge down upon the enemy. Yet Sullivan listened long in vain for the sound of musketry upon the distant right wing, notwithstanding that it was Poor’s intention to advance with unloaded guns and charge with the bayonet, for Wayne’s handsome work at Stony Point on July 16, only six weeks before, had stirred the army with an ambition to achieve a similar victory with cold steel. Colonel Cilley, who commanded a New Hampshire regiment, had been with Wayne on the Hudson and was now with Poor.
At three o’clock, Sullivan thinking it not wise to wait longer, gave order to Proctor to open fire with all his guns. The two howitzers, the little Coehorn and the six cannon opened with a terrific roar, while the light corps were ordered to be in readiness for a charge, as soon as the firing of the flanking column was heard. It was intended that the cannonade should be the prelude to a general advance on front and flank. The guns grew hot with firing, however, before anything was heard from the New Hampshire men, who had been obliged to face unexpected difficulties and especially to flounder through swamps, far deeper than anyone had supposed.
Proctor’s round shot, grape and bombs not only cut and tore the forest trees to the terror of the savages, but did terrible execution. In many places within the enemy’s line the bloody proofs of the terrific and destructive power of the shell fire were afterwards amply evident. Brant, their mighty leader, found it was all he could do to hold his painted warriors together. Suddenly, rather to their relief, than otherwise, runners from the hilltop came to inform their chief that the enemy had made an attack in force on their left flank, driven in the party of watchers, and were moving forward on the main body. Glad to escape the terrific missiles of the artillery, and to give his braves congenial occupation and one more suitable to Indian warfare, Brant led off a large party, possibly the majority of his warriors, to repel this new danger.
Turning now to the hilltop on the right and to the flanking operations, we behold the most startling episode of the battle, when for a moment it looked as if a cloud of red men was about to overwhelm this one isolated body of their foes. The second New Hampshire regiment under Colonel Reid, separated from the others in the brigade, suddenly found themselves partly surrounded by a semi-circle of rifles and hatchets. Their thin scattered line of riflemen, sent out to scour the woods as skirmishers, and at this time only a few yards in front of them, was quickly driven back before a whirlwind of fire. With unloaded muskets, the destruction of Reid’s regiment seemed certain. Nevertheless the salvation of the Americans was in the Indians firing too high. They were too certain of victory to keep cool and take sure aim.
This was the situation—Dearborn’s Third New Hampshire, Alden’s Sixth Massachusetts, Cilley’s First New Hampshire, and Du Bois’s two hundred and fifty picked New Yorkers, on the extreme right flank, and far to the northwest of the main body, made up, with the Second New Hampshire, the brigade. These regiments moving in the woods, in a country which no white man had ever penetrated, had become quite separated from each other. Poor, the commander, hoping to completely outflank the enemy, was far ahead on the right, too distant to be heard from. Clinton’s brigade, consisting of the Third New York under Gansevoort, the Fifth New York commanded by Du Bois, the Fourth New York led by Livingston, and the Second New York on the right under Van Cortlandt, formed the reserve, but they were still far below in the rear. The regiments were all small, numbering each about three hundred men. The great and imminent danger was that Brant’s seven hundred warriors might wholly overwhelm the men of one regiment before help could reach them from their comrades.
Such disaster seemed now to threaten. Starting his men on the run, Brant had reached the hill top, just as the men of Reid’s Second New Hampshire, nearly out of breath, and toiling amid the terrific heat, were only half way up the rough face of the rather steep eastern slope. At the extreme left of their brigade and nearest the British breastworks, which were a few hundred rods to the westward, Reid’s men found themselves far away and out of sight from their comrades in the other regiments, which were further to the right—east and north. Their guns were unloaded while their ears were deafened with the yell of hundreds of exultant savages who felt sure of scalps. In a moment more they were face to face with the foe. With their empty muskets, defeat and massacre seemed certain. They realized that their brigadier, Poor, was far away to the right, pressing his troops on to the attack, hoping to close in upon the enemy and prevent their retreat.
There was but one thing to do. It was to fix bayonets and charge. Reid shouted the order. His men, jaded as they were, pushed further up the hill, driving the enemy for a moment before them and getting a bare chance, in the momentary lull, to load their guns. Then began the usual fusilade among the trees. Yet it was still a desperate uncertainty and the enemy outnumbered them.
Not far away, Dearborn, with the Third New Hampshire, hearing the firing, realized at once the peril in which Reid was. Without waiting a moment, he took the responsibility, without orders, to right about face. He did so, supporting Reid and striking the enemy on the flank, while Clinton, equally alert, pushed forward two of his regiments. His object was to support the New Hampshires and if possible gain Brant’s rear.
Then ensued a severe fight in the woods, which from the nature of the situation could not last very long. Brant seeing his plans upset, ordered his men to retreat and save themselves.