Paoli Battlefield - The Terrors of the Night

Overview
On September 20th, 1777 a portion of the Continental Army was camped on the fields of several farmers near Paoli in the modern day town of Malvern PA. They were under the command of one of George Washington's ablest generals, Anthony Wayne. Their mission was to spy on the main British Army, note when they crossed the Schuylkill River, and to attack the enemy's baggage trains when an opportunity presented itself.

On the night of September 20th, a British task force under the command of General Charles Grey attacked the encampment. Using ingenious timing and tactics, Grey's small British force routed Wayne's much larger American force. The flight of Wayne's detachment secured the surrounding area for the main British Army, and insured a smooth crossing of the Schuylkill River.

Although a relatively minor clash of the Philadelphia campaign, the battle has a towering place in the annals of American propaganda, and serves as an interesting example of the passions that often follow a lopsided, imaginative, and unusually terrifying battle.

The Battle of Paoli

Background to the Battle
In August 1777 a British Army under Sir William Howe had landed in Maryland for the purpose of attacking the American capital at Philadelphia. Upon landing at the Head of Elk, the British Army Marched north.

The American Army under Gen. George Washington stood and fought at Brandywine Creek on September 11th, 1777. The Americans were defeated, but not demoralized and searched for another opportunity to harm the British before they captured Philadelphia.

Five days later, on Sept 16th, the British attempted to pursue Washington's army. Washington was equally eager for the fray. The two armies met just north of Malvern -- but just as the two forces engaged, a torrential thunderstorm hit, soaking both armies, and ruining all of the Americans' ammunition. This non-battle, called the "Battle Of The Clouds" resulted in Washington ordering his men to retreat north towards Reading - intentionally leaving behind Anthony Wayne's detachment of Pennsylvanians.

Wayne's mission was to stay hidden and monitor the progress of British Army. Washington and Wayne knew that that in order to enter Philadelphia, Howe would have to cross the Schuylkill. In order to do that safely, Howe would send the main body of his infantry across the river, and then have his supply wagons follow, escorted by only a few soldiers or horsemen (Such was the standard way for a professional army to cross a river). If Wayne could stay hidden while the British crossed, he might be able to successfully raid the vulnerable British baggage wagons- while the British Army was on the wrong side of the river.

And so it came to pass that Wayne's small detachment of about 2200 men camped on these fields, biding their time and waiting for their moment to strike. The men were bivouacked in booths or wigwams made of brush and tree branches. The camp stretched for about 200 yards from the west to the east, with a timberline to their rear or south. Wayne was careful and contentious. Guard posts were set up several miles from the camp, covering every possible route of British attack.

Blown Security
Washington's plan was audacious and innovative, but relied on one key detail going right for Wayne- something that as it turned out, neither he nor Wayne had any control over. The British needed to remain completely oblivious to Wayne's presence until he struck. Both Washington and Wayne were clearly hoping that 2200 Continental soldiers would somehow go unnoticed camping in the enemy's rear.

Not only did the British learn of the American presence, they fully aware of their composition and mission. In addition, there were several Loyalist residents who would be happy to guide the British directly to the American encampment. And so the British came up with their own secret plan, and unlike the Americans' their secrets were going to be kept.

No Flints
British Major General Charles Grey was given command of the operation. Knowing that Anthony Wayne was no fool and would have a guarded camp, he hatched a brilliant scheme for attacking him. He would attack at night, something very rare during the Revolutionary War. His men would not fire a single shot and rely solely on the bayonet. As the British soldiers formed up in their camps, they were ordered to unload their weapons. If they could not do so, they were ordered to remove the flint chips from their pieces, making them impossible to fire.

At 10:00pm on the night of the 20th, Grey's force set out towards the Americans, about 1200 strong. Grey's force was about half the size of his American quarry, but Grey was confident that he had most of the advantages. He had the location of his sleeping enemy, surprise - possibly complete surprise - would be on his side, and the general discipline of a British unit was reliably superior to that of the Americans.

Wayne was and would continue to be one of Washington's best and most reliable field commanders. He had taken every precaution that a general takes when bedding his army down for the night. Unfortunately for his command, his standard security measures were about to be undone by the tactics of a military genius.


Picket Post 4
Wayne's posting of cavalry pickets (called videttes) saved the ensuing action from being an even worse disaster then it was. A mounted patrol spotted the advancing British on the Sweedesford Road. Receiving no response to their challenge, the videttes fired at the British, and galloped at full speed into camp to raise the alarm.

The foot pickets, as it turned out were destined for a grim fate. The first bloodshed would be at "Post Number Four". The British marched silently up to the first picket post they encountered. The American pickets fired at the difficult-to-see shadows on the road. The British soldiers charged, bayonets flashed, screams rent the air ...then silence as the British marched on. The few survivors of Post Four scattered.


Alarm
At the American camp, groggy Continentals were roused from their sleep by the horsemen thundering through. Wayne immediately ordered an evacuation, and commanded his easternmost infantry brigade to form up as he moved out his four cannons. Soldiers stumbled from their wigwams, snatched their weapons, and tried to form up in the dark. At the tree line, artillerymen struggled to withdraw their pieces. The Pennsylvanians formed up in reasonably good order, and began the somewhat lengthy process of marching 2200 men away from the British.

The Next picket post, Number Three, was much closer to the camp. Soldiers here also challenged the British, fired and withdrew back to the camp, some of them falling to British bayonets, others fighting hand to hand. With the sounds of fighting at Post Number Three audible, Wayne ordered his easternmost brigade to form a rearguard and support the post.

Steel, Fire and Panic
It was already too late for Post Three. At the eastern end of the campsite, the British had arrived. Their plan had a worked almost perfectly. At the American camp, just a few dozen yards away now, they could see the Continentals struggling to form lines. The shapes of the armed men were silhouetted perfectly by the still-burning campfires. Giving a loud "HUZZAH!" the British charged into the camp, their wicked twenty-inch steel bayonets promising death to all who stood before them.

The British tactics bore lethal fruit. Some Americans were illuminated by their own campfires. Other Americans gave themselves away by firing at the semi-hidden British. British soldiers rushed everywhere they saw a musket flash or the shadow of a Continental. First came a wave of light infantrymen, then a charge by twelve dragoons, slashing and hacking everything in sight. Finally a line of 600 Scottish Highlanders roared through the camp.

For the Americans, all was confusion, giving way to panic. They had fought the British before, but not like this. Not in the pitch black of night, and not with their enemy acting with such uncharacteristic stealth and silence. They were used to watching their enemy approach with flags waving and drums pounding a cadence, with fifes squealing and even the hateful bagpipes of the Highland regiments screeching. For the unfortunate Pennsylvanians on the eastern end of the camp, this was nothing but silently moving shadows, ominous bulks swiftly rushing towards them, and finally impalement on the evil triangular blades of the bayonets.

At the western end of the camp the American evacuation had been going relatively smoothly, until a cannon got stuck at a fence line. It was eventually freed, but hundreds of Continentals were stalled in their retreat, and forced to face their British attackers. Once the cannon was freed, Americans poured out to the west, fleeing their old encampment. Miraculously, none of the artillery was captured.

By now the conflict was coming to a grisly, fiery close. British units were mopping up the eastern end of the camp. All had happened quickly. Some Americans hadn't even woken up and gotten out of their booths. These men were ordered to surrender. Some did. Others, half-mad with terror, and thinking they were about to be murdered in cold blood, refused. Snagging burning timbers from the campfires the British burned them out, save for a few who were so crazed with fear that they chose to perish in their burning shelters.

Aftermath
The British had lost fewer then 20 men killed and wounded during the fight. The American toll was horrifying. 53 men had been killed, almost all by swords and bayonets. 113 were wounded, and 71 were captured. Wayne's conduct was examined by both a court of inquiry and a general court-marshal (at his own request) and was exonerated of any negligence and wrongdoing in defending his camp. He would retain Washington's trust, and play a significant role in the later years of the Revolution.

The battle was a psychologically traumatic one for the American survivors. All battles are horrible of course, but the elements of this engagement - the night attack, and the use of the gory bayonets left a deeper-then-usual scar on the psyche of the Continental soldiers. The Battle of Paoli, very soon after called the "Paoli Massacre" was a night the Americans never forgot - or ever forgave the British for.


Propaganda
The American propaganda machine immediately went to work, smearing the British with cries of "Massacre". To this day, signs and markers near the memorial park/ battlefield identify the action -inaccurately and even unethically- as "The Paoli Massacre". Lies were spread that the British had offered no quarter (news that would have surprised the 71 prisoners taken), and that the British had gleefully stabbed the helpless Continentals as they pleaded for mercy, treating them like so much livestock to be butchered. The motivations for such fibs usually boiled down to two reasons.

Firstly, with Anthony Wayne one of the most respected American generals, his utter defeat at Paoli was particularly embarrassing to the American cause. It was much more soothing to the American ego to accuse the British of wicked foul brutality and barbarism then it was to acknowledge the fact that even good generals can be soundly defeated by an innovative and competent enemy.

Secondly, the propagandists pretended (as such people tend to do) that the innovative and surprising British tactics were an inherent breach of some code of decency. In the fevered reasoning of such men only the most cruel barbarian would surprise his enemy in the middle of the night, and rely on a weapon that he was trained to use, but his foe was not.

It wasn't until much later that this reasoning was recognized for the poppycock that it was (and is). There were no rules of fair play in war, not the Revolution or any other. The only crime the British were guilty of was one-sided victory.

Circumventing and overwhelming the opposition's security, surprising the enemy when their guard is down, and using weapons that give one's own side the advantage is the mark of a superior military mind, not a an amoral butcher. Similarly, unfamiliarity with a weapon like the bayonet, which the Americans were not yet well schooled in, is a military liability rather then a sign of humaneness. No historian, professional or amateur should be fooled by the wails of 18th century patriots who sought to deny that the Battle of Paoli was brilliant British victory, rather then horrid massacre of helpless Pennsylvanians. As a student of history knows, there are authentic massacres, atrocities, and butcheries enough in the world, without unfairly applying the any of these terms to this battle.


Hiking Tour

The Paoli Memorial Grounds / Battlefield Park is on Monument Avenue in Malvern PA.

Grave site / 1817 Monument



Central to the story of Paoli is the gravesite - the grounds have a stone wall enclosing the final resting place of the 53 American dead. Atop the mound is the second-oldest Revolutionary War monument in America (the oldest one's in Lexington, MA). The marker dates from 1817. To prevent any further weathering, it's enclosed in a Plexiglas case.

1877 Monument

The Obelisk is only a few dozen yards away. It was built in 1877. The inscriptions on the faces copy those of the 1817 monument. It should be noted here that the 1817 marker was commissioned when the massacre mythos was still running high, and thus the inscriptions on both markers are a hysterical indictment of the British. Watch for the shrieks of "cold blooded cruelty" and "British barbarity". It's best not to learn one's history from this obelisk. That's what the Battlefield is for.

Battlefield

About the size of four football fields, the Battlefield is the site of Wayne's encampment. Eight information panels tell the story of the brief and brutal battle, and do an excellent job of immersing the visitor into the ill-fated bivouac.

Not to be missed is the second panel, which shows and explains the painting "A Dreadful Scene of Havock" by Xavier della Gatta, said to be an accurate composite of actions at Paoli.

Four panels are immediately visible in the center of the field, and four more form a line along the timberline, the same timberline that was there in 1777. According to the panels, the field is very well preserved. The furthest most panel is about 300 yards away, and a lazy course to view all the panels makes for a leisurely and non-strenuous hike of slightly more then about a half mile round trip.

As with most battle-parks, it's peaceful, pleasant and quiet now. Local residents happily use the area to walk their dogs, so a visitor is liable to have company of both the two and four-legged variety.