Breed's Hill 1775

Boston, 1775
(Source)

"What say you Major? Time to give the bloody colonials the bill for Concord I would think."

Major John Pitcairn simply nodded at the man, that march through the Massachusetts countryside back in April still rankled with him. Too many fine men lost, and to what purpose? Here we are again, marching to the colonists tune, what will be the butcher's bill this day?

"Sergeant Barnes!"

"SIR!"

"Prepare the men, we will advance shortly."

"SIR!"

Major Pitcairn watched the first wave falling back down the slope, gaps in the ranks, the men a bit shaken but quickly recovering themselves. Drawing his sword he walked down the ranks of his Marines, gauging their readiness for this advance. Fine lads, he thought to himself, I almost pity those men on the hill.

(Source)

As the British fell back from the galling fire the militia had poured into them, one man stood atop the breastwork...

"Huzzah lads! We've shown the lobsterbacks what for! Huzzah!"

"Get down from there Wheelock, some redcoat might shoot you for making all that racket."

"Certainly Nathaniel, but we gave them a thrashing didn't we?"

"Yes we did, Private Wheelock. Need I remind you that when we're on active service, you're to call me captain? Is that too much to ask of my darling wife's idiot brother?" Though said with a smile, young Jason Wheelock took the hint, his older sister was always chiding him for being 'too frivolous.'

"Yes sir, Captain Sir! I shall try and remember."

"Good now, get ready, I hear the drums, seems like the lobsterbacks want to try again."

(Source)

"Marines! Shoulder your FIRELOCKS!" Pitcairn barked out as he moved to his position near the drummers in front of the battalion. Turning to his son, he said...

"Mind yourself well today William, we don't want your Mother to mourn either of us, do we?"

"No Sir, I shall tread cautiously this day!"

Drawing his sword, Major Pitcairn raised it aloft and barked, "Battalion! To the front, MARCH!" As the drums began to rattle, the 2nd Marines stepped off. Looking to his right, the major could see that General Howe's troops were rallying and were starting to advance back up the hill themselves.

(Source)

Captain Nathaniel Jones looked over his men, they were nervous, he could tell by the way they fidgeted and brushed the sweat from their foreheads.

"Steady lads, steady! Wait for it, don't fire too soon. Wait for it..."

The rattle of the British drums was most unnerving, the men advancing on their position appeared to be Royal Marines, Jones had served with them in the war against the French, not lads to be trifled with. Well then, I think that is close enough.

"FIRE LADS! GIVE THEM A VOLLEY!"

The British seemed to stagger as the smoke rolled down from the freshly turned dirt, chasing the hail of lead balls which had smashed into the redcoated men advancing up the hill. They faltered, but only for a moment.

Then another volley rang out, more men went down.

Captain Jones heard the British officers and sergeants commanding their men to fall back. Perhaps we have won this day, he thought to himself. At that point his neighbor and sergeant tugged at his sleeve.

"That's it Sir, we are dry, there is no more shot, nor powder to propel it. What are your orders Nate?"

He could see that some of the men were reloading, some of them with pebbles scooped from the ground beneath their feet.

"Alright lads, if they come on again, we'll give them one more volley, that should do it. But be ready to pull back towards Cambridge if need be. Steady now, here they come."

(Source)

As the Marines approached the breastworks before them, Pitcairn saw the colonials leaning forward, ready to give fire, but the volley was weak, uncoordinated. Damn my eyes, they are out of ammunition!

"BATTALION! CHARGE BAYONETS! CHARGE! AT THEM LADS!!"

As Pitcairn stepped forward, looking back at his Marines, he saw motion in the corner of his eye, to the left. Some fellow was actually aiming at him! How quaint...

The ball hit the major hard, he was down, barely conscious as his battalion dashed past him and into the rebel works. His son William had seen him fall and was quickly at his side.

"I have lost my father!"

A few Marines faltered and came back to where William knelt by his father. A few of them dropped to their knees and wept openly. Major John Pitcairn was a popular officer.

Death of John Pitcairn
(Source)

Somewhere over the crest of the hill, men were cheering. But to the men around John Pitcairn, it was a bitter day, a day many would remember to the day they died. The day their officer fell leading his Marines against their fellow Englishmen.

(Source)

The Battle of Bunker Hill, as we call it, though in truth it was fought on Breed's Hill was a British victory, but a very costly victory. One thousand and fifty four British soldiers fell taking a hill from colonial militia. The breakdown of the casualties:

• 19 officers killed
• 62 officers wounded
• 207 soldiers killed
• 766 soldiers wounded

Nearly 49% of the force. With victories like that, British hopes of quelling the rebellion were slim. Though they persisted in trying for eight more years. Sir William Howe, who was to replace Thomas Gage as commander in the colonies, was forevermore shy of assaulting American positions head on. Henry Clinton, also on the field, would succeed Howe and have even less success, content to sit in New York and let the rebels come to him.

So in the long run, it was a British victory that sowed the seeds of eventual British defeat.

But for William Pitcairn, it was the day he lost his father.

Major John Pitcairn, of His Majesty's Royal Marines, born in Scotland, died in Massachusetts within sight of Boston, where he lies interred in Christ Church Cemetery to this very day.

Perhaps 'tis fitting to remember the son, and the father, on this Fathers Day, which is also the 243rd anniversary of the Battle of Bunker Hill.

(Source)

It is well to remember, that history is made by people, that the casualties suffered in battle are not just numbers.