Men of War: The American Soldier in Combat at Bunker Hill, Gettysburg, and Iwo Jima

by Alexander Rose

Overview

In the grand tradition of John Keegan’s enduring classic The Face of Battle comes a searing, unforgettable chronicle of war through the eyes of the American soldiers who fought in three of our most iconic battles: Bunker Hill, Gettysburg, and Iwo Jima.

This is not a book about how great generals won their battles, nor is it a study in grand strategy. Men of War is instead a riveting, visceral, and astonishingly original look at ordinary soldiers under fire.

Drawing on an immense range of firsthand sources from the battlefield, Alexander Rose begins by re-creating the lost and alien world of eighteenth-century warfare at Bunker Hill, the bloodiest clash of the War of Independence—and reveals why the American militiamen were so lethally effective against the oncoming waves of British troops. Then, focusing on Gettysburg, Rose describes a typical Civil War infantry action, vividly explaining what Union and Confederate soldiers experienced before, during, and after combat. Finally, he shows how in 1945 the Marine Corps hurled itself with the greatest possible violence at the island of Iwo Jima, where nearly a third of all Marines killed in World War II would die. As Rose demonstrates, the most important factor in any battle is the human one: At Bunker Hill, Gettysburg, and Iwo Jima, the American soldier, as much as any general, proved decisive.

To an unprecedented degree, Men of War brings home the reality of combat and, just as important, its aftermath in the form of the psychological and medical effects on veterans. As such, the book makes a critical contribution to military history by narrowing the colossal gulf between the popular understanding of wars and the experiences of the soldiers who fight them.

Praise for Men of War

“A tour de force . . . strikingly vivid, well-observed, and compulsively readable.”—The Daily Beast

“Military history at its best . . . This is indeed war up-close, as those who fought it lived it—and survived it if they could. Men of War is deeply researched, beautifully written.”—The Wall Street Journal

“A brilliant, riveting, unique book . . . Men of War will be a classic.”—General David H. Petraeus, U.S. Army (Retired)

“The fact is that Men of War moves and educates, with the reader finding something interesting and intriguing on virtually every page.”—National Review

“This is a book that has broad value to a wide audience. Whether the reader aims to learn what actually happens in battle, draw on the military lessons within, or wrestle with what actually defines combat, Men of War is a valuable addition to our understanding of this all-too-human experience.”—The New Criterion

“A highly recommended addition to the literature of military history . . . [Rose] writes vividly and memorably, with a good eye for the telling detail or anecdote.”—Kirkus Reviews (starred review)

“Using the firsthand accounts of brave soldiers who fought for freedom, Rose sheds new light on viewpoints we haven’t heard as widely before. It’s a welcome perspective in an era where most people have no military experience to speak of.”—The Washington Times

“Rose poignantly captures the terror and confusion of hand-to-hand combat during the battle.”—The Dallas Morning News

“If you want to know the meaning of war at the sharp end, this is the book to read.”—James McPherson, Pulitzer Prize–winning author of The War That Forged a Nation


From the Hardcover edition.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9780812996869
Publisher:	Random House Publishing Group
Publication date:	06/09/2015
Sold by:	Random House
Format:	eBook
Pages:	496
Sales rank:	405,588
File size:	9 MB

About the Author

Alexander Rose is the author of Washington’s Spies: The Story of America’s First Spy Ring, which inspired the AMC original series TURN: Washington’s Spies, and American Rifle: A Biography. His writing has appeared in The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, The Washington Post, and other publications.

Read an Excerpt

1. Introduction

The most curious thing about Bunker Hill is that, despite its iconic status in American history, it was in some respects quite a minor affair. Anywhere between 1,500 and 3,500 American militiamen—­their strength varied over the course of the day, as men left and reinforcements arrived—­fought roughly 2,400 to 3,000 British soldiers over the course of a few hours one pleasant afternoon on June 17, 1775, on a small peninsula across from Boston. By way of contrast, a more typical conflict of the era was the War of the Bavarian Succession between Austria and Prussia. In 1778—­contemporaneous with the struggle in the American colonies—­Prussia, the least populous and the poorest of the European powers, fielded no fewer than 160,000 troops.1

Yet these dry statistics belie Bunker Hill’s consequence. As the Annual Register would briskly conclude near the end of the Revolution, “Most of these actions would in other wars be considered but as skirmishes of little account [though] it is by such skirmishes that the fate of America must be necessarily decided. They are therefore as important as battles in which an hundred thousand men are drawn up on each side.”2

To its participants the battle certainly did not feel like a “skirmish”: Bunker Hill holds the wretched distinction of being the bloodiest clash of the War of Independence. “I can only say from the oldest soldiers here,” wrote the newly arrived Lieutenant William Feilding, “that it was the hottest fire they ever saw.”3 By day’s end, almost half the British troops engaged would be dead or wounded. “Tho’ Masters of the Field of Battle,” one contemporary grimly judged, “the King’s Troops are much the greatest Sufferers.”4 Another determined that the British army could now be divided into three: “The first company is under ground; the second is above ground; the third is in the hospital.”5 American losses were relatively small.

Before Bunker Hill, few believed that part-­time militiamen could stand, face, and fight a professional army. Yet they did, and by acquitting themselves so magnificently demonstrated that the American cause was a viable and worthy enterprise. Which means we must ask: Who were they? How did they do it? And what was it like to fight at Bunker Hill?

2. The Battle

First, a summary of what happened. Late at night on June 16, 1775, a detachment of American militiamen commanded by General Israel Putnam sneakily took possession of Bunker Hill, a modest rise on the Charlestown peninsula. This triangular piece of land was attached to the Massachusetts mainland by a narrow strip called Charlestown Neck, and it jutted out between the Mystic and Charles Rivers to face Boston, where the British were holed up. Early the next morning, the British realized that these Americans were so close to Boston that they could bombard the city with cannon, but far worse, that Colonel William Prescott’s men were now building an earthen “Redoubt” (a type of small fort) atop Breed’s Hill, which was nearer even than Bunker. Once their work was done, the Americans would be so securely ensconced that it would be exceedingly difficult to dislodge them. Accordingly, British troops under General Sir William Howe were transported across the bay to the peninsula, where they prepared to assault the enemy before time ran out. Additionally, after the Americans had been put to the sword, Howe intended to advance on Cambridge, where the main American forces under General Artemas Ward were stationed. If all went well, the rebellion would be over by close of play, either that day or the next.

Meanwhile, fresh American militia units under Colonel John Stark had arrived to support Prescott, now grievously exposed at Breed’s Hill. Instead of reinforcing him directly, however, they marched to Bunker Hill, which guarded the vulnerable Neck against a British attack from the rear. At the foot of Bunker Hill they hurriedly assembled a long defensive structure termed the “Rail Fence,” which faced the spot where the British were assembling in preparation for the imminent clash. On the “Beach” directly below and perpendicular to his position, Stark built a low stone wall to prevent a surprise flank attack. Despite these precautions, Prescott had by this time realized the danger he was in and ordered his men to dig a trench, or breastwork, extending from the redoubt’s walls to cover a weak spot between his position and that of Stark.

The British were now confronted by firmly entrenched defenders, making nonsense of their original plan. Even so, come what may, the Americans had to be destroyed. Howe divided his force into two divisions, the right under him, the left under Robert Pigot. Howe would attack the rail fence and the beach while Pigot assaulted Prescott’s redoubt at Breed’s Hill.

Following a series of bloody attacks Howe’s wing stalled but Pigot’s managed to break through Prescott’s defenses. A vicious bout of hand-­ to-­hand combat sent the militiamen fleeing for the safety of Bunker Hill. Their positions lost, the Americans retreated across the Neck and set up defensive positions on the mainland. Some of the British gamely tried to pursue the enemy, but physical exhaustion and the sheer scale of Howe’s losses convinced him to halt for the night. The battle of Bunker Hill was over, but the War of Independence had only just begun.

3. The Redoubt, Part One

The militiamen came garbed for battle as they did for work—­as farmers and artisans.1 Some even had on the same leather aprons they wore in their shops.2 For the most part, the New England militia units reflected their respectable rural environments. In Captain Hutchins’s company, two-­thirds listed their occupations as “husbandmen”—­that is, farmers—­with most of the rest making a decent living as carpenters, cobblers, tailors, millers, and the like.3 Many outfits also had within their ranks former slaves, maybe a couple of itinerants, the odd Native American perhaps, but the militiamen who fought at Bunker Hill for the most part owned property of some sort—­an average-­sized farm, say—­and most of those who did not were the sons of men who did.

Many wore homespun shirts, sometimes made of canvas but of linen or flax in the summer, that were “a kind of loose frock, reaching half way down the thighs, with large sleeves, open before, and so wide as to lap over a foot or more when belted.”4 Their gaiters or stockings were tanned a dead-­leaf color in vats, and their feet were clad in “cowhide shoes ornamented by large buckles, while not a pair of boots graced the company,” as one octogenarian recollected it decades later. Many had on weather-­beaten broad-­brimmed hats often turned up on three sides to form a sloppy tricorne, sometimes complemented by a sprig of green or a homemade cockade; around their necks they tied an off-­colored neckerchief or stock.5

It was hard, perhaps impossible, to distinguish the men sartorially from their officers—­a profound difference to European military custom. Of the ten richest men in Lexington, for example, no fewer than eight were content to sign on as privates, and they dressed accordingly; rare indeed was the officer who took pains to get “above himself” and stand out from the crowd.

Typical was Experience Storrs of Mansfield, Connecticut, a prosperous farmer “portly in figure” who, when not tending his sick wife (“troubled with Histeruk Colluk Pains”), hewed wood, attended church, cleaned drains, worried about his colds, and mended stone walls—­all while serving as his regiment’s lieutenant colonel (an almost regal rank far beyond a man of Storrs’s socioeconomic background in Europe). In March 1775 he agreed, with his friends Colonel Jedediah Elderkin and Major Thomas Brown, “to dress in a plain manner.”6 Similarly, at the redoubt Colonel Prescott wore a simple linen coat: British soldiers were later convinced that their foe was commanded by a “farmer dressed in his frock.”7 Even starchy Colonel John Stark, a man “always mindful of his rank,” as his biographer had it, was “never a stickler for dress,” restricting the peacockery to a waistcoat and some kind of “insignia.”8

If the militiamen’s outfits added up to a drab uniformity, their assortment of weapons was motley, to say the least. One veteran of the battle remembered, “Here an old soldier carried a heavy Queen’s arm, with which he had done service at the conquest of Canada twenty years previous, while by his side walked a stripling boy, with a Spanish fuzee not half its weight or calibre, which his grandfather may have taken at the Havana [1762], while not a few had old French pieces, that dated back to the reduction of Louisburg [1758].”9 Ezekiel Worthen of Kensington, New Hampshire, shouldered a French musket, made in 1752, that had been taken from the enemy, taken again by Indians, and retaken by Worthen during a skirmish. He also brought along a newer accessory: a cartridge box engraved with “Liberty or Death.”10 (Some weapons were newer acquisitions: Nathaniel Rice of East Sudbury proudly carried “a musket I took from the British at Concord.”)11

The antiquity of most of the militiamen’s pieces should not obscure their lethality. These were working, effective firearms. In an era when guns were expensive and manufacturing them was a painstaking business, it was common for even regular soldiers to use hand-­me-­downs. The British, for instance, were using Brown Bess muskets—­still perfectly serviceable—purchased as far back as 1730.12 By that standard, the Americans’ arms, most of which dated from the French and Indian War, were relatively new and almost certainly better maintained.

Virtually every man at Bunker Hill brought his own firearm. Ascertaining exact figures for gun ownership in 1775 is extremely difficult. However, an analysis of the returns of thirty New England militia companies finds that the overall rate of private ownership was at least 75 percent and probably much higher. A keen company commander, such as Timothy Pickering of Salem, Massachusetts, ensured that 100 percent of his men were armed. Likewise, at the end of May 1775 all of the 509 men in Colonel Moses Little’s Ipswich, Massachusetts, regiment were, boasted a Provincial Congress report, “armed with good effective firelocks.” Meanwhile, “only” two-­thirds of the fishermen from maritime Cape Cod owned their own weapon, no doubt because there was less call for them in their line of work.13 Ultimately, those who fought at Bunker Hill would either bring their own musket, use ones illicitly stockpiled by their local militias, or, in a pinch, borrow them from stay-­at-­home neighbors.14

Like Colonel Abijah Pierce, who touted a fearsome walking cane at Lexington, the militias also lugged along a formidable, if ragged, collection of hand and edged weapons.15 Many were repurposed from agricultural uses: At least one man was seen bearing a grain flail, numerous others with pitchforks, and a few with shillelaghs (wooden cudgels or clubs).16

Some armed themselves more traditionally. Cutlasses—­short, machete-­like hacking swords—­could be wielded handily by beginners. Before he left for Boston, Israel Litchfield took the precaution of buying one, despite his complete lack of training.17 During the battle his compatriot Israel Potter thought himself fortunate to be armed so: “Although without an edge and much rust-­eaten, I found [the cutlass] of infinite more service to me than my musket” when a British officer swiped at his head with a sword. “With one well-­directed stroke I deprived him of the power of very soon again measuring swords with ‘a Yankee rebel.’ ”18

Nearly every American sword “had been made by our Province blacksmiths, perhaps from some farming utensil; they looked serviceable, but heavy and uncouth,” remembered one veteran.19 The country metalworkers had tried their best, but in style these weapons looked decidedly dated, as if they had been excavated from some century-­old time capsule buried during the English Civil War (1642–­1651). Aside from the cutlasses, American swords tended to be simple-­hilted straight rapiers for thrusting.20 For their part, recent immigrants fighting alongside the colonials tended to wield weapons from the Old Country: On the night before Bunker Hill the militant cleric John Martin girded himself with his trusty “Irish long sword,” with which he soon slew one unfortunate Briton “by letting out his bowels” and another “by a stroke on the neck.”21

What the Americans lacked and the British enjoyed in abundance were bayonets, but this would not prove a critical omission. While Captain Henry Dearborn alleged that among all the Americans there were only fifty bayonets available—­and in his company just one—­bayonets were in fact rarely used in combat, their effect being primarily psychological rather than practical.22 The bayonet, it was thought, made soldiers feel more aggressive when assaulting an already nervous enemy, who was liable to panic and run before a well-­officered attack actually connected. But if the two sides came to blows at close quarters, a grain flail, cutlass, or pitchfork was almost certainly as dangerous as a bayonet, and probably more so. At Bunker Hill, it was only near the end, by which time the redoubt’s defenders had been severely weakened by casualties and were out of ammunition, that bayonets—­wielded by reinvigorated and reinforced British troops surging forward—­helped to provoke flight.