The British Are Coming: The War for America, Lexington to Princeton, 1775-1777

On the night of April 18, 1775, “hundreds of men in blood-red coats” (79) moved stealthily from Boston Common toward Concord, hoping to seize rebel munitions and capture radical leaders. The American resistance, already wary and organized through local militias, was prepared to respond with remarkable coordination. Dr. Joseph Warren quickly mobilized messengers Paul Revere and William Dawes Jr. to ride west and spread the alarm. Revere’s crossing of the Charles River and his midnight gallop through the countryside are steeped in legend, but Atkinson demythologizes the tale, noting Revere’s practical, well-established role as a courier. Rather than the famous phrase that is used for the title of the book, a witness claimed that Revere shouted, “the regulars are coming out” (83). This warning to John Hancock and Samuel Adams in Lexington spurred the region into action. Church bells clanged, signal lanterns shone from steeples, bonfires flared, and armed farmers emerged from their homes, responding to the long-anticipated call to arms.

By dawn on April 19, Captain John Parker and roughly 70 Lexington militiamen had gathered on the town common. They were outnumbered and outmatched by the British vanguard under Major John Pitcairn. Despite Parker’s order not to provoke a fight, confusion and tension erupted into gunfire. The origins of the first shot remain “forever uncertain” (87), but the result was brutal: a sudden, chaotic volley by British troops killed eight Americans and wounded others. The redcoats quickly resumed their march to Concord after what was less a battle than “an execution” (88). Meanwhile, the countryside mobilized. Concord’s militia, under Colonel James Barrett, organized in growing numbers on a ridgeline above the town. The colonial militias were diverse and disciplined, made up of blacksmiths, farmers, and innkeepers bearing antique muskets and homespun coats. At North Bridge, tensions escalated again. Mistaking the smoke of a supply-burning bonfire for “British arson” (93), the militias advanced. British troops guarding the bridge fired, killing Captain Isaac Davis and another man. The Americans responded with deadly resolve, forcing the British to retreat in disarray. The first lethal exchange at Concord emboldened the militias and deepened the sense of outrage. Noah Pankhurst, moments after the exchange, remarked that “the war has begun and no one knows when it will end” (95).

As the British column withdrew toward Boston, it came under continuous and intensifying attack. Militias from dozens of towns poured in, exploiting stone walls, thickets, and winding roads, firing on the redcoats from cover. At points like Bloody Curve and Fiske Hill, the fighting was intense. Rebels ambushed British soldiers, stripped supplies, and sometimes killed the wounded. British accounts acknowledged the ferocity and tactical skill of opponents who “fought like bears” (96), a far cry from the militia force once dismissed as mere rabble. Colonel Francis Smith, wounded and increasingly desperate, found salvation in Brigadier General Hugh Percy’s arriving reinforcements. Percy’s column, equipped with artillery, stabilized the retreat and provided cover. Atkinson notes Percy’s competence and aristocratic detachment, quoting his praise for his own decisive role in saving the expedition. Even so, the British suffered ongoing harassment. Skirmishes in Menotomy (in modern-day Arlington, Virginia) produced some of the most brutal street fighting of the day. Rebels and redcoats fought from house to house, with numerous casualties and instances of plundering and violence against civilians.

By late afternoon, Percy turned his battered force toward Charlestown, avoiding a rebel ambush by changing course at the last moment. The exhausted British troops straggled into Charlestown after a grueling 19-mile march as rumors spread that “the British were massacring children” (102). As they ferried back into Boston under the protection of Royal Navy warships, the rebellion had taken on an irreversible momentum. The siege of Boston had begun. Roughly 273 British soldiers were killed, wounded, or missing, while American casualties totaled 95. Bodies littered the countryside and hastily dug graves marked the aftermath of a conflict that was now unmistakably war. The accounts of that day, disseminated rapidly by American printers and couriers, shaped public opinion across the colonies and in Britain. The American narrative, which suggested that “redcoats fired first; helpless civilians had been slaughtered” (107), galvanized support for armed resistance. This myth of violated American virtue, crafted from the chaos of “one raving afternoon on Battle Road” (109), became central to the Revolutionary cause.

From May to June 1775, an American “army of sorts” (110) encircled Boston, extending from Roxbury to Chelsea, intent on driving out the British. The provincial congress called for 30,000 troops, prompting mass enlistments from across New England. Although enthusiasm ran high, the Grand American Army quickly earned a reputation as disorganized and ill-supplied. William Tudor labeled it “little better than an armed mob” (110). Makeshift camps rose around Boston, staffed by clergy and officers attempting to instill order. Yet many volunteers soon deserted, particularly as provisions dwindled. The American force, never stable, was estimated at around 16,000 within a month. Lacking essentials, particularly arms and ammunition, leaders like Joseph Warren pleaded with Philadelphia for aid. Relief came in mid-May when Ethan Allen and Benedict Arnold—described as “a short, gifted Connecticut apothecary, merchant prince, and hothead” (112)—led a successful surprise capture of Fort Ticonderoga and Crown Point in New York. The Americans gained control of strategic territory and seized a significant cache of weapons and supplies, though moving the munitions remained a challenge.

Inside Boston, conditions deteriorated under British control. General Gage demanded civilians surrender their weapons for safe passage out of town. Many did, but Gage later halted the exodus, fearing bombardment. Supplies ran short and sickness spread. Loyalists sought refuge in the city while fearing rebel retaliation. The British military presence tightened as patrols and fortifications expanded. In late May, tensions flared on the harbor islands. American militiamen rounded up livestock from Hog and Noddle’s Islands, sparking a skirmish with British marines and the schooner Diana. Brigadier General Israel Putnam led reinforcements, including “the first use of American field artillery in the war” (116), to overwhelm the British. After a prolonged fight, Diana was grounded, abandoned, and burned by Americans. British retaliatory fire failed to reverse the defeat, which lifted American morale. Diana’s mast became a symbol of victory, raised as “a seventy-six-foot flagpole” (118) at Prospect Hill.

By June, Gage declared martial law, excluding Samuel Adams and John Hancock from pardons. He appealed to London for more troops, ships, and funds, warning that the rebellion was widespread and British resources were dangerously low. He requested reinforcements, estimating that 32,000 troops were needed, and considered using foreign troops or even enslaved people. British planning soon focused on seizing Dorchester Heights, but word leaked. The Americans instead resolved to fortify Bunker Hill. On June 16, under Colonel William Prescott, about 1,000 men marched to Charlestown. Rather than fortifying Bunker Hill, however, they began entrenching Breed’s Hill “for reasons never explained and certainly never understood” (123). British forces soon spotted the activity, and cannon fire from ships commenced early on June 17. The redoubt took shape under fire, and reinforcements were slow to arrive. Prescott, lacking adequate water and ammunition, nevertheless prepared for battle. General Gage and his newly arrived major generals (Major Generals William Howe, John Burgoyne, and Henry Clinton) debated strategy. Clinton proposed a flanking attack, but concerns over logistics and the recent loss of Diana in shallow waters led to a more straightforward frontal assault under Howe. British troops prepared for an amphibious landing, while ships shelled American positions. Charlestown Neck and the Mystic River complicated navigation and movement.

As British boats crossed the Charles River around 1:30 pm, a crowd of spectators gathered; “loyalists and patriots stood together” (128) to watch from the rooftops. General Putnam rallied troops across the peninsula. Despite chaotic command and missing regiments, American officers like Thomas Knowlton and John Stark shored up the defenses. Knowlton improved a “rail livestock fence” (129) into a deceptive defensive line, while Stark’s New Hampshire regiment hurried to secure the vulnerable Mystic shoreline. They built a small stone wall on the beach and joined the main line behind the fence. With fewer than 170 men remaining in the redoubt, American preparations for the British assault concluded just as the redcoats approached.

After landing at Morton’s Point with 600 British troops, General William Howe surveyed the American defenses on Breed’s Hill and concluded he faced up to 6,000 men. Awaiting reinforcements from General Gage, Howe planned a two-pronged attack: Brigadier Pigot would engage the redoubt head-on while Howe led grenadiers and light infantry to flank the American line via the Mystic shoreline. British forces, numbering about 2,600, prepared for the assault under heavy artillery fire. Charlestown, seen as a threat to Pigot’s flank, was set ablaze by heated cannonballs and mortars from British ships and the Copp’s Hill battery.

At 4 pm, with the rebels now “killing mad” (134), British infantry advanced in two main columns. American defenders held fire until the redcoats were within close range. On the right, British light infantry attacking along the Mystic River were “slaughtered” (135) by musket fire from behind a stone wall. The grenadiers advancing on the rail fence met similar resistance, suffering heavy casualties. Howe’s men briefly regrouped but were repelled again. Many officers were killed or wounded, while friendly fire added to the confusion. Pigot’s attack on the redoubt was initially stalled by obstacles and deadly American volleys. British losses mounted, including Major John Pitcairn, who lay “dying in the grass from at least one ball in the chest” (137). Colonel Prescott and his men held the redoubt with dwindling ammunition. Among the few reinforcements was the “elegantly dressed” Dr. Joseph Warren, who declined command and fought as a private soldier. As British troops regrouped for a third assault, General Howe changed tactics, ordering an advance in tighter columns with fixed bayonets and lighter loads. American defenders, short on ammunition and artillery support, braced for the final charge. The British stormed the redoubt from three sides, overwhelming it in hand-to-hand combat. Prescott and others fought their way out through the “carnage” (140); some, like Dr. Warren, were killed.

By 5:30 pm, American forces retreated. Units from New Hampshire and Connecticut provided covering fire during the withdrawal. Despite chaos, the retreat was largely orderly. British forces pursued briefly but stopped at Bunker Hill. Americans crossed Charlestown Neck under naval fire, with some casualties like Major McClary. By nightfall, the British had secured the peninsula and “regained roughly a square mile of rebel territory” (142). They suffered over 1,000 casualties, with 226 killed, many from elite units. Promotions and auctions of fallen officers’ belongings followed the battle. British officers criticized the leadership and performance of their own troops, while the psychological toll of the battle lingered.

American losses were around 450, including 138 dead. In Boston, the wounded overwhelmed hospitals; many died from wounds or infections. American prisoners taken during the battle were jailed, many dying by September. Charlestown was left in ruins, with over 500 buildings destroyed and more than 2,000 people displaced. Though Americans had lost the ground, many overcame their initial dismay to see the battle as “a triumph of patriot moxie” (146). Leaders and newspapers emphasized the valor of citizen-soldiers. General Gage delayed reporting the battle to London, where the high casualties shocked the public. While his official dispatch praised British troops, Gage privately admitted the rebels were inspired by a “rage and enthusiasm” (147), so much so that the campaign would likely be long and costly. The British public reacted with horror as ships brought home wounded soldiers and grieving families. Officers wounded in battle received recognition and compensation, but enlisted soldiers did not. Despite efforts to portray the battle as a victory, many on both sides recognized the heavy price. The aftermath set the tone for a prolonged and brutal conflict.

From July to October 1775, in Cambridge, Massachusetts, George Washington assumed the role of “general and commander-in-chief of the American forces” (150), soon to be known as the Continental Army. Washington was a veteran of the last French war, commanding provincial forces from Virginia at the age of just 23. In his beloved Mount Vernon, he left behind his wife and estate, having written a will before his departure. Arriving on July 2, he was largely unknown to the 17,000 troops he inherited. Washington’s appearance and bearing inspired confidence, but he harbored deep anxieties about the army’s condition and his own qualifications. He travelled with books “on how to build fortifications and otherwise run a war” (151). Washington found the army disorganized, poorly equipped, and undisciplined. His men lacked uniforms, training, and adequate weaponry, and the officer corps was rife with inexperience and political favoritism. Orders were issued daily to address hygiene, discipline, and readiness. He divided the army into three grand divisions under Generals Ward, Putnam, and Lee, all former British officers who had “thrown in with the rebels” (155). Despite initial estimates of 25,000 troops, Washington discovered fewer than 14,000 fit for duty.

Conditions were harsh. Camps were unsanitary and infractions rampant in an “army still looking for its soul” (158). Officers used soldiers for personal labor or falsified reports. Discipline was difficult to enforce; courts-martial were common, and flogging, though limited by Congress, remained routine. Supplies like soap, tools, and nails were in short supply. Commissary officials struggled to procure enough food for the troops, and efforts to stockpile “virtually everything” (161) fell short. Most alarming was the powder shortage. Initial reports of fifteen tons proved inaccurate; by early August, fewer than five tons remained, enough for only nine rounds per soldier. Washington kept this revelation “a profound secret” (163) and pleaded with Congress and other colonies for relief. Small shipments arrived, including from the West Indies, but the scarcity limited offensive action. Saltpeter for making powder was so rare that citizens were instructed on how to produce it from “the effluvia of animal bodies” (164).

Amid these difficulties, a serious betrayal was uncovered. A coded letter had been intercepted in Rhode Island. The letter exposed Dr. Benjamin Church, the army’s surgeon general, as a British spy. Washington arrested him and convened a council of war, which concluded his guilt. Church defended himself before the Massachusetts Assembly, but was expelled and imprisoned. He was eventually exiled and “vanished without a trace” (168) at sea in 1778.

Against a backdrop of false rumors spreading among the America troops, Washington sought to maintain pressure on the British while husbanding resources. Skirmishes, sniping, and occasional raids occurred, such as a successful assault on the Boston lighthouse. Riflemen from Pennsylvania, Maryland, and Virginia added firepower, though their unruly behavior tested commanders’ patience. The British, meanwhile, remained entrenched in Boston. General Thomas Gage departed under orders from London, replaced by William Howe in October. British forces, numbering around 11,000, also faced hardship. Supplies dwindled, food was scarce, and disease was widespread. To maintain morale, “ten times more was spent on rum than on medicines” (174). Efforts to relocate the army to New York were postponed due to weather, logistical challenges, and lack of ships.

In October, the British Navy executed a punitive strike on Falmouth, Maine. Under orders from Admiral Graves, Lieutenant Henry Mowat bombarded and burned the town after its residents refused to surrender arms. More than four hundred buildings were destroyed, as Mowat had been told to “burn, destroy, and lay waste” (175) to nine towns. The attack, condemned by Americans and some British observers, fueled patriotic anger and reinforced the belief that Britain was waging a cruel and barbaric war. In response, Americans strengthened coastal defenses and began to authorize privateers to harass British shipping. Congress supported these measures, and Washington denounced British atrocities in his orders, casting the struggle as a “moral crusade” (177). Meanwhile, his army grew to over twenty thousand on paper, though only fourteen thousand remained fit for duty. As enlistments neared expiration, Washington feared mass desertions. His appeals to strike a decisive blow were rejected by his generals, who feared a repeat of Charlestown’s destruction. With no powder and no consensus, the army settled into siege. Boston’s blockade tightened, but American supply lines remained fragile. Washington faced the winter with determination but recognized the immense challenges ahead, both from his own army’s shortcomings and the strength of the British enemy.