September 1776
The Army that Would Not Die
by Kevin Boerup
On the morning of SEPTEMBER 30, 1776, British soldiers advanced cautiously toward the American fortifications at Brooklyn Heights. They expected a fight.
Instead, they found abandoned earthworks, smoldering campfires, and silence.During the night, General George Washington had accomplished what many military historians regard as one of the finest withdrawals of the eighteenth century. Nearly 9,000 soldiers, horses, artillery, and supplies had slipped across the East River under the cover of darkness.
As the last boats reached Manhattan, an unusually dense fog settled over Brooklyn, concealing the remaining Americans until every regiment had escaped.
To the British, it was an exasperating missed opportunity. To many Patriots, it was something more profound.
Throughout the colonies, ministers spoke of the escape as an act of Divine Providence. Newspapers noted the remarkable timing of the fog. Soldiers who had watched it roll across the river believed they had witnessed the preservation of the American cause itself.
Whether one views the event as extraordinary weather or providential intervention, its importance cannot be overstated. Had the Continental Army been captured on Long Island, the Declaration of Independence might have become little more than the manifesto of a failed rebellion.
Instead, the Revolution lived to fight another day.
Washington, however, had little time to celebrate.
Across the East River, British General William Howe still commanded the finest army in North America. His objective had not changed. Destroy Washington’s army, and the rebellion would almost certainly collapse.
The American commander now faced an agonizing question.
Should he continue defending New York City, or should he preserve his army for the battles yet to come?
It was a lesson Washington was still learning. Earlier in the campaign, he had believed that holding important cities was essential to maintaining public confidence. But the disaster on Long Island forced him to reconsider. Cities could be reclaimed. A destroyed army could not.
That realization would shape the remainder of the Revolutionary War.
In mid-September, British forces landed at Kip’s Bay on Manhattan’s eastern shore. The bombardment from British warships was overwhelming. Many inexperienced American militia broke ranks almost immediately, fleeing before disciplined British regulars as they advanced inland.
Washington rode toward the panic, furious at what he saw.
Witnesses recalled him trying to rally retreating soldiers, striking some with the flat of his sword and shouting for them to stand their ground. At one point he came so close to the advancing British that aides feared he intended to sacrifice himself. They reportedly seized his horse and persuaded him to withdraw before he was surrounded.
The episode revealed both Washington’s greatest strength and one of his greatest weaknesses.
He expected ordinary citizens to display the discipline of professional soldiers. When they failed, his frustration was unmistakable. Yet he never lost faith that those same citizens, given time and experience, could become an army capable of defeating Britain.
The retreat from Manhattan was chaotic, but it was not a rout.
As British forces advanced, Washington established new defensive positions farther north. On September 16, American troops fought back at Harlem Heights. It was not a large battle by European standards, but it mattered enormously.
For the first time since the defeats around New York, Continental soldiers drove British light infantry from the field.
The victory was modest, yet its psychological effect was significant.
Officers reported that the army’s confidence improved almost immediately. The men had proven something to themselves. They could stand and fight against Britain’s best troops.
Washington recognized the importance of this moment. Military success was measured not only by territory gained or lost but also by the confidence of the soldiers who remained in the ranks.Even so, the larger strategic picture remained bleak.
General Howe continued searching for opportunities to cut off the Continental Army. Rather than attacking Washington head-on, he repeatedly attempted to maneuver around the American flank, forcing another retreat.
To some observers, Washington appeared indecisive. In reality, he had begun adopting a strategy that would ultimately help win the war.
He refused to allow Howe the decisive battle the British commander desired. Each withdrawal frustrated critics who wanted dramatic victories. Yet every successful retreat denied Britain its primary objective. Washington’s army remained intact.
Looking back, it is easy to forget how discouraging this period appeared to those living through it. Newspapers carried reports of abandoned positions. Civilians watched columns of weary soldiers march north while British flags rose over New York. Loyalists declared that the rebellion was nearing its end.
Washington heard those criticisms. He also ignored them.
His responsibility, as he increasingly understood it, was not to defend every mile of ground. It was to preserve the one instrument capable of securing American independence: the Continental Army.
By October, that army had withdrawn toward White Plains. Again Howe sought to trap the Americans. Again Washington escaped.
Historians point to careful reconnaissance, disciplined rear guards, and the caution of British commanders as practical explanations for these repeated withdrawals. Yet many contemporaries interpreted the events differently. They saw a pattern emerging. Time after time, just when defeat appeared certain, circumstances shifted in favor of the Patriot cause.
Washington himself was cautious in describing such events. He rarely claimed special favor from Heaven. Yet throughout his correspondence he acknowledged what he called “the smiles of Providence,” expressing gratitude for deliverance without presuming to understand God’s purposes. That humility resonated with the soldiers who followed him.
By the close of September 1776, the Revolution had achieved no great battlefield triumphs. New York City was effectively lost. British forces held the initiative. American casualties mounted, and supplies grew increasingly scarce.
Measured in territory, the campaign had been a failure. Measured by survival, it had been a remarkable success.
The Declaration of Independence had been signed less than three months earlier. During that brief span, the new nation had come perilously close to extinction. Yet its army remained in the field, its commander refused to yield, and its cause still inspired men willing to endure extraordinary hardship.
The darkest days, however, were still ahead.
Before the year ended, Washington would lose forts, abandon New Jersey, watch his army shrink to a fraction of its former strength, and face the very real possibility that the Revolution would dissolve with the expiring enlistments of December.
It would take one desperate gamble on a freezing Christmas night to change the course of history.