Chapter 10

One of the most annoying things that I remembered of that stay on Staten Island was the hordes of mosquitoes that descended on us at night like we were a late-night snack for them to munch on and suck our blood with the impunity of superior numbers.

I must have terminated hundreds, if not thousands, of the insects with a vengeance unmatched since my gory days with General Sherman on his march into Atlanta and across Dixie like the mighty hand of God almighty seeking justice for the brave souls already fallen with nary a say in the matter other than to say, “I do!”

The year round residents of the area were the first to accuse the adjoining State for the scourge of the tiny creatures but the general feeling was that New Jersey was the source of their primary breeding grounds and they were reputed to be responsible for more casualties than the entire British Army with the Hessians included as well.

My displeasure with the mosquitoes was uniformly shared by the others and we considered our decision to return to Washington’s headquarters as timely because a new invasion of the pesky flying attackers was starting with a building crescendo of irritating buzzing in the ears as soon as the sun went down.

It reminded me of the careful setting of the mosquito netting over our sleeping bags in the jungles because the things carried so many diseases that we were repeatedly stabbed with needles to inoculate us against the worst.

I had to smile in thinking that the British regulars were in for a surprise when they spent their first night on Staten Island and met the clouds of nightly visitors looking for fresh blood regardless of country of origin or which side they were fighting on because blood was blood and they had no favorites when the thirst was upon them to fill their tanks with the sticky red stuff that flowed all thru the night.

According to my calculations, I had been in this time period almost two years now and the war was just warming up in certain geographic areas and cooling down in others. The defeat at Saratoga was in the offing and the British were already withdrawing from their favorite city of Boston to the Tory centers to the northeast in a circuitous route that would put right smack dab back on Staten Island with all the rest.

It had seemed to me that the two patriot forts on the Hudson River at Fort Washington and Fort Lee should have been able to put a chokehold on the British fleet but they failed because of lack of proper logistical support and a lazy way of enforcing the coverage of the river at its widest point. The defenders on the east shore in Fort Washington were far too interested in their personal pursuits and the leadership was lacking in every respect.

As far as Fort Lee was concerned, the manning of the cannon was by militia that was a bit dubious about their choice of sides and they were ready to melt away at the first sign of trouble. The storming of the Palisades was the impetus for them to rejoin a civilian lifestyle rather than become cannon fodder for the British regulars to whom they were no match.

We left Staten Island joyfully because of our unanimous distaste for the mosquitoes that were more annoying than the redcoats, if the truth be known.

My pair of Indian scouts was resplendent in their blue jacket attire despite the distressing loin cloths below and they both carried an assortment of tomahawks that looked vicious enough to get the job done with no worries about damp powder or inferior firearms. They worked our line of march like trained bird-dogs flushing out any interlopers either in front or trailing us from behind.

Corporal Langdon with his annoying Tory thinking relatives was not as happy about the move because he had established a firm relationship with one of the twin female cousins. I was not certain which one it was and it really didn’t matter since they were identical. I could understand his determination to forge a relationship because the girls were both extremely lovely to look at and they were in the blush of feminine youth when their skin was almost pink with distracting appeal at all times.

The four of us were nicely armed with Kentucky rifles and plenty of dry powder to see us through a dangerous route. I was quite familiar with the working of the flintlock mechanism and made certain I had plenty of superior sparks to set my weapon barking correctly at the firing line. We kept our bayonets separate and I carried one of the Mohawk tomahawks that was given me as a gift by a warlord of a New York tribe with great respect for General Washington and a deeply seated hatred of the redcoats that had burned and destroyed his village as a lesson for supporting the French in their devious designs for a united “New France” right in the middle of the colonies with typical French conceit that they were always in the right.

I knew now in the middle of the year 1777 that the British were decidedly in the correct position to destroy the rebellion. In fact, I knew from my future studies that it could have gone either way at this point and that the true “turning point” was not Saratoga, but right there in Staten Island when General Howe made a mistake and turned to Philadelphia as a goal for his expedition instead of continuing up the Hudson and splitting the new nation in two.

I had to agree that the original plan by General Howe to move up the Hudson River Valley and cut off the New England colonies from the Southern colonies was the best solution to ending the war in British favor. I speculated that General Howe, probably on advice from his ambitious brother, the Admiral decided to make Philadelphia his target rather than coordinate with his brother officers, General John Burgoyne and General Barry St. Leger.

Of course, Washington was still of the opinion that Howe would continue north and he had no inkling of the well-hidden plans to make his goal the occupation of Philadelphia, the seat of the Continental Congress. He was finally successful in taking that fine city just as he took New York City. The problem was that he was only able to hold Philadelphia for about nine short months before being forced to withdraw due to the French involvement after the patriot victory at Saratoga.

I planned to hint at these possibilities when I turned in my report to General Washington directly immediately after my return from the mission to Staten Island to get the lay of the land.

It was simple for me to mention in passing that General Howe had the option to turn south from Staten Island and threaten Philadelphia just to plant a seed in his mind that The Hudson River Valley direction might never come to fruition.