Ralph Brunker, 33rd Regiment, takes his own way out

Something went wrong in Ralph Brunker's career. We don't know what it was, but we have some clues.

Brunker, also spelled Bunker, came to America in 1776 as a corporal in the grenadier company of the 33rd Regiment of Foot. For a rank-and-file soldier, this was a reasonably prestigious post; the grenadier company, ten percent of the regiment's strength, was formed of men who had at least a year of experience, had good physiques including being among the tallest men in the regiment, and were generally reliable soldiers. Being appointed as a non-commissioned officer indicated that Brunker was a trustworthy, well-disciplined soldier; there were only three corporals and three serjeants in a company that included (at full strength) fifty-six private soldiers, so Brunker was in the top ten percent of an already-elite ten percent.

Things began to change for Brunker in the middle of 1777. After a year of hard campaigning with a grenadier battalion, he was transferred out of the grenadiers and into one of his regiment's eight battalion companies. This in itself wasn't unusual; men who had been wounded, fallen ill, or in some other way were unfit to continue the very active duties of a grenadier were always transferred back to the regiment and replaced with fit men. But Brunker was also reduced to be a private soldier before the end of 1777. While this, too, could have been due to physical incapacity, both the transfer and the reduction could have been caused by poor discipline.

A year later, in June 1778, Brunker was put back into the grenadier company, still a private soldier. The 33rd Regiment's grenadier company spent the winter of 1778-1779 as part of a grenadier battalion on Long Island, living in huts and, as is often the case with enthusiastic but bored soldiers, causing a fair amount of trouble with local inhabitants. When they finally went on campaign again in the late spring of 1779, it was difficult to contain the men who had been cooped up for months. When the grenadier battalions established a camp at Verplancks Point on the east bank of the Hudson River, the many of the soldiers set to plundering outside of their own lines. Several deserted. A few were caught a tried by courts martial.

In July the grenadiers moved south and east into Westchester County. The discipline problems continued. It was in this area that Ralph Brunker's career came to an abrupt end. He and another grenadier "went off"; whether for plunder or with an intention of deserting is not known. A local Loyalist named Elijah Vincent, who served as a guide for the army and later became an ensign in the Guides and Pioneers, came upon the two wayward soldiers in New Rochelle. He arrested them and brought them into the grenadiers' camp, where they were put in confinement. They could expect to be charged by a regimental court for being absent from camp, or by a general court for desertion. Either way, the likely punishment was lashes.

Ralph Brunker probably already knew the pain of lashing, the most likely explanation for this next move. And the army's response is indicative that he had already established a reputation as a bad character. An officer recorded, “Two from the Grrs went off & were taken up at New Rochelle by a young man call’d Vincent of East chester who march’d them into Camp, they were lodged in the Qr. Guard & in the Eveng one of them (Bromker the 33d) cut his throat & dyed & was buried in the highway with a stake thro’ his body.”

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Edward Bailey, 63rd Regiment, is tried twice

All in all, he wasn't much of a soldier.

Edward Bailey was added to the muster rolls of the 63rd Regiment of Foot on 21 February 1777, when the regiment was in the New York area. The circumstances of his joining are not known. He may have been an American, or an "old countryman" already in America; he didn't join at a time when other recruits from Great Britain joined the regiment. It didn't take him long to get into trouble.

On 25 June 1777, the regiment was assembled on the parade of their encampment, and Bailey was missing. On the night of 30 June, he showed up at the hut of a wagoner who worked for the army. The wagoner suspected that Bailey was a deserter, and "entertained" him until soldiers came and put him under arrest.

Put on trial for desertion three days later, Bailey pleaded that he had not intended to desert, but that he had "made away with some necessaries," that is, shirts and stockings, presumably of fellow soldiers. Fearing punishment for this theft, which could have been as much as a few hundred lashes, he "wandered about, and lay in the Fields." He said he intended to return to the regiment on the night he was captured.

Bailey's alibi was common one, and was effectively an admission of guilt - regardless of his intentions, he had in fact deserted, and the only basis the court might have for mercy was the fact that he'd expressed an intention to return and did, in fact, go to a person who worked for the army. Desertion was punishable by death, so Bailey probably was simply hoping for a more lenient punishment. If that was the intention of his defense, he succeeded. The court found him guilty, which he clearly was, and sentenced him to 1000 lashes, a standard corporal punishment for this crime.

Then Bailey caught a break. Sentences of general courts martial were subject to approval by the local commander in chief. In this case, General Sir William Howe determined that there was "a certain want of form in part of the proceedings" of the trial. It is not stated what was lacking; perhaps it was because the prosecution didn't ask whether Bailey's tent and knapsack were examined to determine what possessions he taken, or that no witnesses were asked whether he'd been enlisted properly, or because no statements were made about whether he'd resisted being arrested, or Bailey's statement about having stolen some clothing wasn't pursued. All of these things were typically brought up in desertion trials, but were either omitted or barely touched upon in Bailey's trial. Whatever the reason, the punishment was remitted, and Bailey was released to return to duty.

Seven months later, Bailey was on guard duty on the British lines outside of Philadelphia. He was in the guard room at a quarter to two o'clock in the afternoon of 5 February. He was among the men scheduled to go on duty at Redoubt Number 8, and they were ordered to take their provisions with them, but when roll was called at three o'clock, he was gone. His musket and bayonet were in the guard room, but not his blanket or cartridge pouch. By the next day he was still nowhere to be found, so his absence was reported to the regiment's adjutant.

Two days later, 8 February, the adjutant received a tip that Bailey had been seen at a house a couple of miles away from the 63rd Regiment's quarters. A serjeant and a soldier went the next day to search for him. When they got to the house, they learned that Bailey had been there but had just left only a half-hour before. The searchers noticed footprints in the snow and followed them to another house, still farther from their quarters, where they found Bailey. They asked him why he'd left. He explained that he'd left his cartridge pouch and blanket on a bush, and that when he returned for them they were gone, and he was afraid to go on duty without them.

The following week Edward Bailey was put on trial once again. The serjeant who discovered his absence, the two men who found him, and the adjutant all gave testimony from which . Bailey called no witnesses in his defense, but told the court that he had had no bread to take with him when he was ordered out for duty in the redoubt; he went to town to get some, but on the way he left his blanket and pouch under a bush. When he returned, his things were gone, and he was afraid to return to the guard or to the regiment without them. He went to a house and stayed there for four day, but "being then almost starved, he went in search of a bit of bread." Unable to find any, he was returning to the regiment when the searchers found him.

This story had some similarities to his previous one. This time the court obtained a few more details: the guard had indeed been ordered to take provisions with them on the day Bailey deserted, the blanket and cartridge pouch were missing and never found, and Bailey's path in fact led away from the regiment, not towards it. His previous trial was also mentioned, and the fact that he hadn't been punished.

There was really no question of guilt; Bailey himself admitted to having gone off. The court's issue was to determine a sentence. Had Bailey intended to desert, or was he genuine in saying he'd intended to return? It was truly the difference between life or death. The court chose the former, and sentenced Bailey once again to receive 1000 lashes. This time there was no want of form, and no reprieve from the punishment. We don't have explicit information about whether and when the lashes were administered, but we do have a clue that they were: Edward Bailey deserted yet again on 2 August 1778, this time never to return.

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Thomas Cook, 54th Regiment, gets the King's pardon

In early 1775, the 54th Regiment of Foot sent 29 men to serve in America. These men were transferred to other regiments already on service in Boston, and to regiments about to embark for that place; with tensions building in America, the army saw the advantage of bringing the regiments there up to strength with experienced men rather than new recruits, so the 54th and other regiments in Ireland each contributed a share. Then they began recruiting to make up for the losses.

In May, a 24-year-old tobacconist named Thomas Cook from St. Mary's Parish, county Limerick, Ireland, joined the ranks of the 54th. Before the year was over, the 54th Regiment was ordered to America, and filled out its own ranks with equal portions of new recruits and experienced soldiers drafted from other regiments.

The 54th Regiment was part of the expedition that sailed in January 1776 to secure the southern colonies, which culminated in the failed attempt to take Charleston, South Carolina. The 54th and other regiments spend some time on shore encamped in hot, sandy coastal areas. In the summer they sailed north and joined the army on Staten Island, a verdant paradise compared to the places they'd recently been. After the campaign that drove American troops out of the New York area and into New Jersey, the 54th boarded ships once again and landed in December in Rhode Island, which would be their home for the next two and a half years.

The regiments in the Rhode Island garrison spend the winter quartered in buildings left vacant by inhabitants who had fled before the troops landed. In late spring, when roads were firm and ground was dry enough, encampments were established in the countryside. Rhode Island (the name for the island that today we call Aquidneck, or Newport) had points that were particularly close to the mainland; it was at those locations that redoubts were built for defense, and the encampments were usually within easy reach of these earthen fortifications. While encamped, the soldier's daily ration (served out not directly to individuals but to groups of five soldiers called messes) consisted of one and a half pounds of meat and a similar amount of bread each day. This diet was expected to be supplemented by vegetables purchased or foraged locally. The island's bountiful farms provided ample supplies, which British soldiers became quite proficient at obtaining both legally and illicitly. Thomas Cook may have become proficient at foraging. Or he may have decided he'd had enough of military service.

Late in the afternoon of 30 July 1777, Cook showed up at the advanced guard post on Common Fence Point, a neck of land at the northern tip of Rhode Island that juts eastward, creating a narrow but turbulent channel between the island and the mainland. The point itself was too close to the mainland to be safe, so the advanced sentries were posted well back from the shoreline, out of cannon shot from the mainland, with a number of arable fields and orchards between them and their opponents. Some distance behind the sentries was a redoubt where some fifty soldiers were posted. Cook asked a corporal of the advanced guard, who happened to be from his regiment, for some water, and the corporal noted that he was "seemingly a little in liquor." Cook wore a haversack, a canvas bag slung over his shoulder designed for carrying three or four days of rations on a march. He wandered away after getting his water.

Cook walked on towards Common Fence Point. Someone called to him, from behind. He began to run. Suddenly there was gunfire. Fearful of being shot, he ran into a field of Indian corn, then lay down for cover. The shooting stopped, but suddenly two soldiers appeared and seized him. They asked if he intended to desert, to which he answered no.

He was brought back to the redoubt, where he asserted that he had only gone to gather greens. The corporal's guard had fired at him, though, because there was a strict order against anyone passing the advanced sentries without a pass. Examining Cook's haversack, the men of the guard found a pair of shoes, a pair of stockings and some biscuit, signs that Cook had planned a journey rather than a brief foraging walk. And he was wearing two shirts, a further indication of trying to sneak away with essential extra clothing.

When brought before a general court martial on 7 August and charged with desertion, Thomas Cook had little to offer in his defense. He said that he went to gather greens, and ran into the corn field to avoid being killed when the corporal's advanced sentries fired on him; that he had no intention of deserting, and didn't know that the clothing and food were in his haversack. The court did not believe a word of this, and sentenced him to death.

Cook was held in confinement, awaiting the execution of his sentence. He waited. And waited.

In the meantime, the commander in chief of the army in which the 54th Regiment served, General Sir William Howe, received a copy of the trial proceedings and the sentence. He had to approve capital punishments, and it was his prerogative to grant stays of execution. He could also defer to a higher authority, namely, the king himself. A royal pardon was a way of communicating to the troops that their sovereign was merciful, that being tried and sentenced was punishment enough and that the life of a soldier was valued by the monarch. So General Howe sent a letter to the king recommending clemency for Cook and another soldier who'd been tried in New Jersey in April 1777. In January 1778, a letter was sent from the War Office in London indicating that pardons had been granted. It took some time for the letter to reach Rhode Island, but when it finally did, Thomas Cook was a free man.

Or, rather, a free soldier. He returned to the ranks of the 54th Regiment and resumed his duties. Some soldiers who endured such an experience of being tried, convicted, and confined for many months became bitter and deserted, but not Thomas Cook. He served in the regiment for twenty-one years, after which he joined the 63rd Regiment of Foot. He was discharged from the army in 1797 when the 63rd was posted at Spanish Town in Jamaica. In typical fashion, he was given two extra weeks of pay "to carry me to the place of my abode" on the document that he signed by making an X. The army also provided passage for his return to Great Britain, where he was awarded a pension for "being worn out" in the service.

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Robert Mason, 23rd Regiment of Foot, born a Fusilier

Most British soldiers enlisted in their early twenties, after they were fully grown and had tried their hands at other professions. There were exceptions both younger and older; among the former were those "born in the regiment" who could be put on the muster rolls as soon as they were old enough to perform useful service for the army. An extreme - and rare - example is Robert Mason who was put onto the muster rolls of the 23rd Regiment of Foot as a drummer on 5 September 1767. Two unrelated documents prepared in 1786 list his age as twenty-six; if that's correct, then he began playing the drum (or the fife - muster rolls often list both drummers and fifers as "drummers") at the age of just seven years.

There was a serjeant John Mason in the regiment at the time Robert Mason joined, making it safe to conclude that the young drummer was the serjeant's son. The boy must have been accomplished in his endeavors, for not only did he begin at this extraordinarily young age, but he remained a drummer for the next nineteen years at least. This was not an unusual career path; while not all British drummers began their careers at a young age, most served as drummers for their entire careers.

The 23rd Regiment, the Royal Welch Fusiliers, came to America in 1773, disembarking in New York and moving to Boston the following year. The regiment, or portions of it, served in many of the war's most famous battles and campaigns, from Lexington and Concord in April 1775 to Yorktown in October 1781. In America during the war, he grew up, reaching a slender five feet eight inches. In May 1776, when the British army under General Howe was reorganizing in Halifax, Nova Scotia, he was put into the regiment's light infantry company, where he almost certainly used a hunting horn rather than a drum to signal advances, retreats and other movements. The light infantry company joined similar companies from other regiments to form the 1st Battalion of Light Infantry, a corps that was at the forefront of the campaigns in New York and New Jersey in 1776 and 1777, and the marches to and from Philadelphia in 1777 and 1778. In August 1778 the 23rd's light infantry company was put on board the warship HMS Isis as part of the intended relief of Rhode Island; after the fleet was scattered by a storm, Isis fell in with a larger French warship, and the soldiers of the 23rd, Mason among them, participated the battle in which the British ship bested its larger French foe. Somewhere in the course of these years of fighting Mason was wounded by a musket ball in his left upper arm. And he acquired an interest in women, which began to affect his performance as a soldier.

On 28 July 1779, Mason and two fellow soldiers were absent from the light infantry battalion's encampment near New York City. The next morning, following standard procedure, a serjeant examined their knapsacks to see what they had taken with them: men who planned to desert often took spare clothing with them. The knapsacks were empty, so the men were reported as deserters and light infantrymen on horseback were sent to search for them.

In the mean time, around one o’clock in the morning, before their knapsacks were examined, the three missing men knocked at the door of a house in Throg's Neck, New York, which the British referred to as Frog's Neck. The woman of the house answered the door, and the men asked how to find the road to East Chester, farther away from British lines than they already were. The woman directed them, and the three travelers went on their way. The man of the house, however, was suspicious; he got out of bed, took up his gun, and followed the strangers into the night. The three soldiers stopped at another house, this time asking "if there were not any Rebels near at hand." Once again they were sent on their way. Then the first homeowner, gun in hand, arrived at the second home and told the owner, whom he knew, that he suspected the other men were deserters. The two local residents, both with guns, went off together in pursuit.

The two parties soon encountered each other, and the soldiers submitted to being taken to a nearby military post. The officer there determined to take them to the British lines at Kingsbridge, and off they went, the officer, the two local inhabitants, and the three soldiers of the 23rd Regiment. About two miles short of Kingsbridge, however, the soldiers turned on their escorts, wielding bayonets that they'd had concealed in spare clothing slung over their shoulders. In the ensuing scuffle, the soldiers managed with some difficulty to seize both of the guns. But when the officer severely wounded one of the soldiers, the other two backed down.

The party continued their trek towards Kingsbridge, leaving the wounded man behind. The next person they met was the captain of the 23rd Regiment's light infantry company, the soldiers' own commanding officer. He asked the two remaining soldiers what induced them to desert, to which Mason gave no reply, but his colleague attributed it to liquor. The third soldier, who had been left on the road, died of his wounds.

The two men were brought before a general court martial on 16 August. When the 19-year-old Mason asked the captain to provide a character reference (bearing in mind that the officer had known Mason for most of the young man's life), the officer replied, "you have lately been rather inattentive, owing to an attachment to two Women of the Regiment." In their defense, the two accused soldiers tried to explain their absence and why they’d taken clothing with them, claiming that "they had no intention to Desert, but that they had left the Camp, the preceeding Evening to wash their Necessaries, and in the night they went to gather some Vegetables, and lost their way. The reason that they took the Arms from the Refugees, is, that they on their March to Kingsbridge had used them ill." The court found them guilty, and sentenced them "to suffer death, by being hanged by the Neck, until they are Dead."

This sentence was never carried out. Robert Mason was instead discharged from the regiment in February 1780. This may have been some sort of plea bargain, for Mason enlisted again the very next day and became a private soldier in the 23rd Regiment. He apparently was not with the portion of the regiment that was captured at Yorktown in 1781, and his behavior must have improved, for he was appointed corporal in 1782. At the close of the war, he returned to Great Britain with the regiment, where he continued to advance. His skill with martial music was again recognized when he was appointed drum major in January 1785.

But Mason's mind was still not fully focused on military discipline. For reasons not known, he disappeared from the regiment's quarters at Tynemouth Barracks in Northumberland on 23 July 1786. A month later, he was advertised in the Newcastle Courant:

Deserted, on Sunday the 23rd July last, from his Majesty's 23d Regiment of Foot, or Royal Welsh Fusileers, now quartered in Tynemouth Barracks, Northumberland, ROBERT MASON, Drum Major, aged 26 years, five feet eight inches high, fair complexion, long visage, light brown hair, grey eyes, born in the parish of Oundle, in the country of Northampton, and by trade a labourer. The said Robert Mason had on when he went away a scarlet jacket, with silver lace down the breast, no lappels, blue cuffs and collar, with wings and silver fringe upon each shoulder, white linen waistcoat and breeches, regimental hat with three white feathers, regimental sword and belt, black stock and half gaiters; he slender made and walks very upright, has been wounded in the left arm a little above the elbow, by a musquet ball.

Another drummer, also a veteran of the American war, absconded at the same time. It is not currently know whether either of them returned, or what became of them.

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Michael Docherty, 17th Regiment of Foot (or Daugherty, or Lochry, or Dockerty...)

During the 1800s, a great deal of mythology arose about the American Revolution, from reassessments of the conflict in terms of righteousness versus evil, to implausible accounts of individual heroism. Aging veterans of the war suffered from inaccurate memory, and some spun tales to amuse and amaze listeners. Authors recorded stories that were hearsay as facts, sometimes saying they'd been related by actual participants, other times simply repeating popular tales. All of this makes it risky to trust early sources, even those written by participants when a long time had passed since the events. Significant sleuthing is required to very a story, and often the results are inconclusive.

In 1822, Alexander Garden published a book called Anecdotes of the revolutionary war in America. Garden had served for several years as an officer in an American cavalry corps, so he had plenty of personal experience on which to base his writings. He nevertheless was relating events of a war that was half a century in the past. One of his anecdotes is of meeting a soldier named Michael Docherty, who told a long and peculiar story. Garden wrote,

At the moment of the retreat, on the 12th May, 1782, when Col. Laurens, commanding the troops of Gen. Green's army, beat up the quarters of the enemy near Accabec, Michael Docherty, a distinguished soldier of the Delawares, said to a comrade who was near — "It does my heart good to think that but little blood has been spilt this day and that we are likely to see the close of it without a fight."

No notice was taken of his speech at the time, but meeting him shortly after in the camp, I inquired how he who was so much applauded for uncommon gallantry, should have expressed so great a delight on beholding the enemy indisposed for action. "And who besides myself had a better right to be released, I wonder," said Docherty "Wounds and captivity have no charms for me, and Michael has never forgot, but as bad luck would have it, both have been his portion. When I give a little piece of the history of my past life, you will give credit for my wish to be careful of the part that is to come.

"I was unlucky from the jump. At the battle of Brandywine, acting as sergeant, my captain being killed, and lieutenant absenting himself from the field, for the greater safety of his mother's son, I fought with desperation till our amunition was expended, and my comrades being compelled to retire, I was left hopeless and wounded on the ground, and fell into the hands of the enemy.

"Confinement was never agreeable to me. I could never be easy within the walls of a prison. A recruiting sergeant of the British, who was at home in his business, and up to all manner of cajolery by dint of perpetual blarny, gained my good will, slipped the bounty into my hand, which I pocketed, and entered a volunteer into the 17th regiment. Stony Point was our station, and I thought myself snugly out of harm's way, when one ugly night when I did not dream of such an accident, the post was carried at the point of the bayonet, and an unlucky thrust laid me prostrate on the earth. It was a great consolation, however, although this was rather rough treatment from the hand of a friend, that the Delawares were covered with glory, and as their prisoner I was sure to meet the kindest attention.

"My wound once cured, and white-washed of my sins, my ancient comrades received me with kindness and light heart, and hoping to gain my quantity of laurels in the South, I marched forward with the regiment as a part of the command, destined to recover the Carolinas and Georgia. The bloody battle of Camden, fought on the 16th day of August, (bad luck to the day,) brought me once again into trouble. Our regiment was cut up root and branch, and poor Pilgarlic, my unfortunate self, wounded and made prisoner.

"My prejudices against a jail, I have frankly told, and being pretty confident that I should not a whit better relish a lodging in the inside of a prison-ship, I once again suffered myself to be persuaded, and listed in the infantry of Tarleton's legion. O! botheration — what a mistake — I never had such bad company; as a man of honor I was out of my element, and should certainly have given them leg bail, but that I had not time to brood over my misfortunes, for the battle of Cowpens quickly following, Howard and Kirkwood gave us the bayonet so handsomely, that we were taken one and all, and I should have escaped unhurt had not a dragoon of Washington's added a slight scratch or two to the account already scored on my unfortunate carcass.

"As to the miseries that I have endured — afflicted with a scarcity of every thing but appetite and musquitoes, I say nothing about them. My love for my country gives me courage to support that, and a great deal more when it comes. I love my comrades and they love Docherty. Exchanging kindness, we give care to the dogs; but surely you will not be surprised after all that I have said, that I feel some qualms at the thought of battle, since, take whatever side I will, I am always sure to find it the wrong one." [Alexander Garden, Anecdotes of the revolutionary war in America, with sketches of character of persons the most distinguished, in the Southern states, for civil and military services (Charleston, SC: E. A. Miller, 1822), 396-398" (Charleston, SC: E. A. Miller, 1822), 396-398]

Garden compared Michael Docherty to a character named Dugald Dalgetty in Sir Walter Scott's novel A Legend of Montrose, published in 1819. Dalgetty, a soldier of fortune, embraced the cause of whatever side he happened to be fighting for; Garden may have been pleased at the similarity of Dalegetty's and Docherty's names as well as of their stories. But could such a tale be true?

Turns out it could be. The muster rolls of the 17th Regiment of Foot show that a Michael Lochry enlisted in the regiment in Philadelphia on 14 January 1778. The names don't match perfectly, but there are many instances on British muster rolls where the spelling of names changes from one semi-annual roll to the next, sometimes quite a lot. Also, Lochry is the only man to enlist on that date, suggesting that he was recruited locally; usually recruits arrived from Great Britain in groups and were all added to the muster rolls on the same date, so this singular enlistment sets Lochry apart. Several hundred Americans captured after the battle of Brandywine are known to have enlisted in British and Loyalist regiments, so the time frame, situation and regiment suggest that Lochry and Docherty are the same man.

Michale Lochry of the 17th Regiment was captured at the battle of Stony Point in July 1779, which also correlates with the story written by Alexander Garden. The 17th Regiment's muster rolls indicate that Lochry was not exchanged at the end of 1780 with his fellow captives; he was carried on the rolls as “prisoner with the enemy” until the end of the war when he was written off as a deserter on 25 June 1783.

A man named Michael Dockerty was among the almost ninety men from the Delaware Regiment listed as "missing in action" after the battle of Camden on 16 August 1780. And a Michael Dockerty enlisted in the British Legion, commanded by Lt. Col. Banastre Tarleton, on 3 September 1780. He was part of a new company composed largely of prisoners captured at the battle of Camden the previous month. This, too, fits perfectly with Alexander Garden's anecdote. The fact that Michael Lochry still was on the rolls of the 17th Regiment is immaterial; there was no way for the officers of the British Legion in South Carolina to compare their records with those of the 17th Regiment in New York.

The British Legion suffered greatly at the battle of Cowpens in January 1781. Many of its men were captured, including Micheal Dockerty. After that, he no longer appears in British records.

Based on the data from muster rolls, we can be confident that Alexander Garden did indeed learn of a man named Michael Docherty, or something that sounded similar to that, who had served in both the 17th Regiment and the British Legion. The only other way he could have known was to himself have studied the British muster rolls, which is unlikely for an American to have done in the early 1800s. Whether Garden truly met the man is less certain; perhaps he'd heard the story elsewhere. Garden relates the story as though it is Docherty's words verbatim, but the passage of time surely caused differences; the overall sequence of events, however, stands up to scrutiny.

Mostly, that is. The muster rolls of the Delaware Regiment indicate that a man named Michael Daugherty deserted the regiment, but not until 17 May 1778. Then they record him on the rolls again in September. Those dates are in complete conflict with both the story told by Garden and with the British muster rolls. Perhaps that Michael Daugherty was a different man, or perhaps there's some other explanation for the inconsistency. Most of Alexander Garden's story checks out, however, giving us a remarkable example of how unusual a soldier's career could be.

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John Sutherland, 64th Regiment, a poor silly creature

John Sutherland had intended only to visit his brother, and now he sat in confinement, awaiting a death sentence. It was not a likely fate for the forty-one year old private soldier of the 64th Regiment of Foot who had always borne "a very good Character" in over eighteen years as a soldier, except for an occasional bout of intoxication, a vice that was common enough among British soldiers, especially those who had spent several years fighting a frustrating, inconclusive war with American colonists.

Sutherland enlisted in the 64th Regiment in 1760 when he was twenty-two years old, after having pursued the trade of a tailor. The regiment, a new one established in 1756 as a second battalion to an existing regiment, and made an independent regiment two years later. Service in the West Indies, in particular the 1759 taking of Guadeloupe, severely depleted their ranks. The corps returned to Great Britain in 1759, and was soon sent to Scotland to recruit. Sutherland, a native of county Caithness in Scotland, was among the new enlistees. He had plenty of time to learn the military trade before another overseas deployment; the 64th Regiment spent three years in Scotland and another five in Ireland before crossing the Atlantic once again.

In 1768, the 64th Regiment of Foot, fully fit for service after a decade of recruiting and training, sailed to North America. There was no explicit crisis to address, it was just part of normal rotations of regiments from domestic to overseas service. The regiment spent the next several years in Halifax, Nova Scotia and Boston, Massachusetts, although much of the time in the latter city was actually passed at the fortified barracks on Castle Island in Boston Harbor. They moved into town in 1774 when tensions with the colonists grew, then served throughout the siege and subsequent evacuation of the city in March 1776. The next time that Sutherland's individual activities become apparent, though, is in October 1778.

The regiment was encamped near Bedford on Long Island. There were many British troops in the area, and their proclivity for foraging caused much mischief on the region's verdant farms. Some farmers applied to the army for safe guards, and individual trustworthy soldiers encamped on their properties to fend off nighttime forays by soldiers bent on illicitly procuring produce. One of these safe guards was John Hamilton of the 44th Regiment. He was well acquainted with the 64th Regiment encamped a few miles away, having "struck several of the Men of that Regiment who had come there to gather Peaches" in recent weeks. At about 1 in the morning on 8 October, he heard noise among the farms poultry. Investigating, he saw two men; when one ran away, Hamilton fired a shot at him, then confronted the other soldier, the somewhat belligerent and very drunk John Sutherland. Sutherland had his firelock (musket) with him, and aimed it at Hamilton; Hamilton, resolute in his duty and perhaps detecting Sutherland's impaired condition, "told him that if he offered to make any resistance he would kill him." Sutherland put the butt of the firelock - which was primed and loaded but did not have a bayonet fixed - on the ground. Hamilton recalled that he

put his hand upon the Muzzle of [Sutherland's] firelock and bid him give it up, but this he refused to do; that [Sutherland] then attempted to bring his firelock up to the Charge; that he [Hamilton] then quitted his hold of the prisoner's firelock, and bringing the point of his Bayonet which was fixed to his own firelock to [Sutherland's] Breast and told him that he would kill him if he offered to make any more resistance; that [Sutherland] then went up to the House where there were two Musicians, belonging to the 33d Regiment who advised him to give up his firelock, but he would not, and they were obliged to break it before they could get it from him.

The following week, John Sutherland was tried by a general court martial in New York, charged with the crime of forcing a safe guard. After hearing the testimony of the safe guard, John Hamilton, the court asked Sutherland for his defense; all he could off was that "he was so much in Liquor at the time that he did not know what he did, and that he never was Guilty of the like before." Perhaps based on his long record of good service, he was acquitted. He returned to his duties.

Sutherland had a brother who was also a soldier in America, serving in a grenadier battalion. Each regiment had a grenadier company, but during the American War those companies were usually detached from their regiments and assembled into composite battalions of their own. John Sutherland's brother may have been Corporal James Sutherland of the 64th Regiment's grenadiers, part of the 2nd Battalion of Grenadiers. In July 1779, that battalion and the 64th Regiment itself were part of a force that had just moved into Westchester County.

One Wednesday afternoon, John Sutherland finished his tasks with a working party and decided to pay a visit to his brother. He and another man, John Archibald, made their way to the grenadier encampment and spent an evening socializing and drinking. The combination of intoxication and darkness caused them to lose their way attempting to return to their own encampment, and they spent the night lost in the woods. In the morning they lost track of each other. Archibald found his way to the camp, but Sutherland did not.

During the same night that the two men got lost, the grenadier battalions and other corps in the area marched off to different locations; the following days brought more movements, until on Saturday the 2nd Battalion of Grenadiers encamped in Mamaroneck, New York. On the march that morning, a soldier of a light infantry battalion noticed a man peering out from the bushes and called to him to come out. The man, John Sutherland, revealed himself. Asked if he was a deserter, and how long he'd been off, Sutherland said three or four days, and that he'd been in liquor. He then compliantly went with the light infantryman and another soldier.

Sutherland was put on trial for desertion that very day. He explained himself to the court, concluding that after he lost contact with John Archibald, he was afraid to return to the regiment because he'd already been gone so long. The court did not ask the usual questions about whether Sutherland had taken clothing with him, or resisted apprehension. An officer of the 64th testified that "whilst he was with the Regiment, the prisoner bore a very good Character; and that he has great reason to believe, that it was from drunkenness the Prisoner deserted, as it agreed with what John Archibald (the Man that was with the Prisoner) told the Adjutant of the Regiment on his return." Compared to other desertion trials, this one seemed unambiguous; even though Sutherland had been absent, there was no reason to believe that he had intentionally absconded. Desertion was a capital crime, but a corporal sentence was appropriate in this case.

The court, however, ruled that Sutherland was guilty and sentenced him to death. This was probably a reaction to a recent spate of desertions in the grenadier battalion rather than to the evidence presented. The officers who composed the court were all from the grenadier battalion, and no testimony came from soldiers in Sutherland's own regiment. Grenadiers were deserting, and an example needed to be made.

The verdict did not sit right with two members of the court, Captain John Peebles of the 42nd Regiment's grenadier company and Captain Warren Simondson of the 64th's. Simondson had testified to Sutherland's character; Peebles recorded in his diary:

on a Genl. Court Martial for the tryal of John Sutherland of the 64th. Regt. for desertion, he was taken this morng. near Rye, - a poor silly creature who tells a simple & consistent story of his being in liquor & losing his way in the night, his greatest fault was in not returning, for it does not appear to me that he left his Regt. with an intention to desert. however he is condemned to suffer death by a mode of procedure in Court that I never saw or hear’d of before, & cannot reconcile to justice & humanity; a circumstance which I shall never forget, & now think in my own mind I should have protested against.

The execution was scheduled for 19 July. Captain Peebles and Captain Simondson went to the officer commanding their brigade and made a case on Sutherland's behalf; Peebles wrote,

Captain S--n & I waited on Genl. Vaughan to ask his opinion of a case like that which happen’d at the Court Martial which we found agreed with ours, we then told him that there was an irregularity in the proceedings, or rather in giving sentence, which we could not reconcile to our judgement & conscience, and begged he would order the Execution be put off untill we could acquaint the Comr. in chief with as much of the affair as the nature of our oath wod. allow us, which he was very ready to do

The general, however, soon learned that a surprise was in store, and let the two captains in on the secret: while forcing the troops to witness an execution was one method of deterring desertion, by striking fear into them, another method for gaining soldiers' loyalty was to show mercy. "The Comr. in Chief had left orders to pardon the prisoner at the foot of the Gallows, which satisfied us with respect to the safety of a man’s life who was not regularly condemn’d." Peebles then recorded the proceedings of the execution:

The Picquets of the left Column being ordered out with the Field officer of the day for the Execution of Jno. Sutherland of the 64th ... The Ceremony was gone thro’ & the poor man behaved very well and penitently at the approaching scenes of death, fainted with joy when his pardon was pronounced.

John Sutherland had escaped with his life. He may, however, have received corporal punishment for his absence from his regiment. For reasons that have not been determined, at the end of the year he was discharged from the 64th Regiment of Foot and took a new post as a soldier in the Royal Garrison Battalion. This was a corps composed of soldiers no longer fit for the demands of long marches and encampments, but who could render useful service at fixed posts. The Royal Garrison Battalion served in the New York area before being sent to garrison Bermuda.

At the end of the war the Royal Garrison Battalion in Bermuda was disbanded. Some of the soldiers took the opportunity to go to Nova Scotia and take their discharge there, Sutherland among them. He was discharged at Sheet Harbor in June 1784, having spent twenty-four years as a soldier. But his military days were not done. In 1793 he joined the Royal Nova Scotia Regiment, in which he served a further three years before being discharged and recommended for a pension, "being deemed by a medical board, from his advanced age, and long services, to be unfit for His Majesty's Service." He signed an X on his discharge, indicating that he had never learned to write. He was fifty-eight years old, five feet seven inches tall, with light hair, grey eyes and a fresh complexion, and after twenty-six years in the army he was finally returning to Great Britain.

The pension examining board had other ideas for Sutherland than simply sending him home to Caithness. The directed him into another garrison corps, the Guernsey Invalids, which he joined on 13 February 1797. He stayed in that corps for five more years, finally taking his discharge on 24 December 1801, "being old & feeble." After thirty-one years in the army, this "poor, silly creature" had earned his pension.

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William Wood, 54th Regiment, makes a fatal crawl

There's a common misconception that during the American Revolution the ranks of British regiments were filled with "the scum of the earth." That's certainly not true as a generality; the majority of British regulars were career soldiers who volunteered for the job and served dutifully, faithfully and well. But any large population is bound to have a few bad eggs. In spite of the efforts of recruiting officers, incorrigible men did make it into the ranks.

The 54th Regiment of Foot sailed from Ireland to America at the beginning of 1776, serving first on the abortive expedition to establish a foothold in the southern colonies, then joining the army in New York. At the end of the year they were part of the force that landed in Rhode Island, where they settled into a garrison routine that was frequently interrupted by alarms and incursions from nearby American forces.

Like all British regiments in America, the 54th had several officers and men in Great Britain recruiting to make up for the inevitable attrition of a wartime deployment. In the spring of 1777, recruits raised during the previous year embarked for New York. Upon arrival there, those of the 22nd, 43rd and 54th Regiments were sent up Long Island Sound to join their regiments in Rhode Island. They arrived on 20 June and were quickly integrated into their corps. They had already been trained in the basic aspects of soldiering while with their recruiting parties in Britain, but had much more to learn. Just days after landing, the recruits were practicing with live ammunition.

The island called Rhode Island, now referred to as Aquidneck Island, was a front line, separated from the mainland by only narrow channels in a few places. Because parts of the shoreline were within easy cannon shot of the mainland, the British established lines that were in many places well back from the shore. By day, the land between the lines and the shore were well protected by British positions. At night the area became a no-man's land, where marauders from the mainland could land to attack sentries or raid houses and farms, island inhabitants could meet agents from the mainland to provide intelligence, mischievous British soldiers could attempt to sneak off of the island, and other illicit activity could occur.

Encounters between British sentries and people lurking outside the lines took place almost daily, or nightly, in Rhode Island. One instance occurred on 2 September, when sentries noticed two men between them and the waterside. One quickly returned and was taken by the sentries; he proved to be a soldier of the 54th Regiment. The sentries saw the other man crawling on hands and knees towards them. They challenged the intruder, but got no response. Following their training, they fired. The crawling man was struck twice in the body and died almost instantly.

The man was William Wood, a soldier in the 54th Regiment. A very new soldier, in fact: he was one of the recruits who had arrived in June. After 74 days with the regiment, he was dead. But an officer of the garrison indicated that Wood had earned no sympathy during his short career: "The man who was shot, was of a very bad Character, and if he had no intention of deserting, of which however there is little doubt, deserved his fate, as he had no business in front of the advanced posts at night, and should have answered when challenged.”

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Richard Shea, 40th Regiment, goes for a swim without his money

Some soldiers told their own stories well enough that there's little need to elaborate on them, and the details can be correlated with other sources. Richard Shea's short stint as a soldier in the 40th Regiment of Foot began when he enlisted in Waterford, Ireland, in late 1774. Tensions were rising in America at this time, but the 40th had not yet received orders for their own embarkation.

We know nothing of Shea's background other than that he was an educated man. His talents were recognized and he was tasked with keeping records for the company, a job that probably consisted mostly of making copies of receipts, returns, orders and other military documents. It may not have been glamorous work, but it was one of many ways that soldiers earned extra money to supplement a base pay that was designed only to provide food and clothing.

The 40th Regiment, along with the 22nd, 44th and 45th, received orders for America in early 1775. Preparations were complete and transports were ready by the beginning of May, and the regiments sailed from Cork, Ireland on the 8th of that month. They arrived in Boston shortly after the battle of Bunker Hill, and served in that city's garrison until the place was evacuated in March 1776.

During a two-month stay in Halifax, Nova Scotia, the British army regrouped and trained for a new offensive. The town was crowded, and many regiment remained quartered on board their transport ships, going ashore during the day for training, washing and other activities. By the end of June the army was at sea again, quickly making their way to Staten Island where they landed unopposed. On this verdant island of farms and villages, the troops encamped or took quarters in outbuildings while awaiting reinforcements from Great Britain, the German states, and the expedition that had recently failed to take Charleston, South Carolina.

Duty could be difficult. An officer of Shea's regiment wrote about his experience on the night of 30 July:

Last night was the gloomiest I ever spent on duty. I was posted with a picket in an open field near the shore. About eleven o’clock there came on a severe burst of thunder and lightning, attended with most violent torrents of rain. Two of my centries being posted near some trees, got for shelter under them, and unfortunately were struck by the lightning. They were both knocked down, and found senseless; one of them is yet in that state. The tree against which he stood had two great branches torn off. 

It was during this time that things went sour for Richard Shea. He had a job that should have been comfortable and lucrative, but also may have been stressful if he was expected to perform his clerical duties in addition to the usual tasks of a private soldier. Perhaps he quarreled with his officers or was, in his own perception, ill-treated by one of them. For some reason he decided that he should collect his arrears in pay.

It was typical for company officers to maintain the finances of their men, keeping an account for each soldier of money earned and expenses incurred. Only if a soldier proved responsible and trustworthy was he given hard cash to spend at his leisure, for soldiers were known to squander their funds on drink, gaming and women. Although a soldier was legally entitled to be the rightful owner of his pay, the army was not required to put it into his hands as long as the basic obligations of food and clothing were met. Controlling the money was a way to control discipline.

When Richard Shea asked the regiment's paymaster for a substantial sum due to him, partly in base pay and partly for his clerical work, he was refused. This may have been for legitimate reasons: Shea may have shown a proclivity for drunkenness or gambling; there may have been a general policy in place to limit the amount of cash in soldiers' hands to dissuade them from straying from their encampments and their duties; or there may have been a simple shortage of hard currency available to the regiment at that time. Whether a reason was given or not, Shea did not accept it. His response, however, suggests that there was more to his discontent than his money being withheld, for he chose to forfeit it altogether. On August 4, 1776, he slipped into the waterway that separates Staten Island from New Jersey, and swam across it to Perth Amboy. An officer of another regiment noted in his diary, “Shea, 40th, Deserted. He swam across the River”

The New Jersey side of this "river" was teeming with American troops. He was taken up and brought to the headquarters of General Hugh Mercer, where he was examined. His clerical work for the regiment had given him access to some interesting details that other soldiers might not have known, and Mercer duly sent the information to the commander in chief on August 7:

Examination of Richard Shea, a Deserter. Inlisted in Waterford twenty-two months ago; an Irishman; of the Fortieth Regiment, commanded by LieutenantColonel James Grant; in Captain John Adlum's company; was clerk to the regiment. He has been six weeks on StatenIsland. Was at Boston last year from July to the 17th March. Went from there to Halifax. Remained there on ship, except now and then on shore to exercise. There are in the Fortieth Regiment three hundred and thirty-six rank and file. Supposed to have fourteen thousand on the Island. Two new Highland regiments very sickly. The Forty-Second Regiment of Highlanders. Expect some Hessians, but none come. The Fortieth Regiment opposite the Blazing-Star, in barns. Stretch two miles and a quarter on the right and left of the Old Blazing-Star. Had no leave to go one-quarter of a mile from quarters. If any soldier left quarters, severely punished. His reason for deserting was, he had £4 due for pay, and £10 as clerk, which he asked for, and was refused by the Paymaster. The officers are much afraid of the Riflemen; the soldiers in spirits; two thousand men sick— small-pox, the Highlanders with fluxes—poxes; not more than four thousand of the fourteen thousand clever soldiers. The Lighthorse and Marines remained at Halifax; also old men and others unfit for service.

Five days ago, ordered the officers' heavy baggage, and women of the Army, on board the fleet. As far as he heard, he believes they will not attack New-York, unless reinforced by the foreigners. He has seen in orders for working party at Billop's Point, where they are numerous, and have thrown up intrenchments. No works near the Blazing-Star. One company at the Old Blazing-Star. Don't know who is at the New Blazing-Star.

Two days' fresh provisions in a week. No vegetables in the week. Each company of the Fortieth Regiment have a guard in front—three men in daytime, six at night; no main guard. The inhabitants are sworn by the commanding officer.

There is on the Island Major-General James Grant, who was formerly Lieutenant-Colonel of the Fortieth Regiment; and the Lieutenant-Colonel James Grant, who is also there, was Major in the regiment.

He heard there were forty transports arrived last Thursday, chiefly store-ships; some few Highlanders. Heard Clinton was defeated, and he was expected to join them.

Blazing Star was the name of a fortification on Staten Island. The sickness of the two highland regiments, the 42nd and the 71st, was due to their sea voyage; they had just spend at least two months on transports, and needed time on land to recover from the arduous journey. The limited amount of "fresh provisions," as opposed to salted and preserved beef and biscuit, certainly hindered their recovery.

Shea's comment about the army having only four thousand "clever soldiers" apparently refers to training and experience; his point is debatable, given the superb overall performance of the army in the campaign that began three weeks later. They would remain "in spirits" throughout 1776 while their success was frequent and ultimate victory seemed assured.

What became of Richard Shea is not known. Intelligence like the report that he gave was typically aggregated with information from other sources, and although it was probably helpful in gaging the strength and capabilities of the British army, it was not enough to prevent their rapid march through New York and New Jersey in the coming months.

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John Hall, 35th Regiment, on a three-day stupor

The 65th Regiment of Foot had been in North America for seven years when fighting broke out Massachusetts in 1775. Having been overseas for so long, they were due to return to Great Britain. The outbreak of war delayed this, and soldiers of the 65th participated in the opening engagements of the American Revolution. In June of 1776, however, when the British army was reorganizing in Halifax, Nova Scotia for an upcoming campaign, the decision was made to send the regiment home. As was customary, those men who were fit for service were drafted into other regiments remaining in America; by this means, many of the regiment's soldiers went on to fight in most of the major campaigns during the next eight years of war.

 

Some of the drafts were already veterans of extensive service. John Hall had joined the army in 1755, at the beginning of the Seven Years' War and before the 65th Regiment was created. When the 65th was drafted, he was sent to the 35th Regiment of Foot, a corps that had arrived in Boston just in time to participate in the battle of Bunker Hill. A twenty-year veteran was a valuable asset, and in July Hall was appointed corporal.

 

A year later, the 35th was among the regiments garrisoning New York City while much of the British army campaigned to seize Philadelphia. Although the regiment was posted in the area of Morrisania, New York, on the fringes of the contested no-mans land in Westchester County, there were still routine and mundane duties to be done. Corporal Hall was assigned to be the orderly for the regiment's tailors, who at that time were busy making woolen leggings in anticipation of colder weather in the coming months.

 

Regimental tailors could be an unruly bunch, and had a reputation for requiring supervision. Corporal Hall may have resented the regiment's quartermaster for assigning him to the task of overseeing them. On September 9, 1777, Hall went on an errand to procure rum for the tailors, and didn't come back.

Three days later, a Loyalist dragoon was patrolling in the neutral ground, the swath of Westchester County that was not held by either side. He came upon Corporal John Hall, "who told him that he was glad to meet with a friend, as he wanted to go back to the Regiment." Hall then "began to damn the Rebels." The dragoon, who most likely was in either civilian clothing or the green cavalry jacket that was used by both armies, was suspicious. He apparently knew that men attempting to desert were likely to make excuses when caught, and seem abnormally anxious to befriend anyone who caught them in the act. He tried a trick to test the wandering British soldier, telling Hall that he was already among the rebels. Hall replied, "Is it true?" The dragoon responded, "Yes, you may depend it is."

 

Hall took the bait. When the dragoon said that he was a serjeant, Hall went on a rant: "Give me a musket, and by Jesus I will go with you, damn the Bougers I’ll fight them, the Quarter Master has used me very ill." He did indicate to the dragoon that his anger towards the quartermaster was the sole reason for his desertion, and that he wouldn't have done so otherwise. The dragoon continued the charade in an effort to get more information: If Hall enlisted with the rebels, would he not desert? No, if he did he'd be shot, and would deserve it. Hall said that many others in the 35th Regiment wanted to desert, but stopped short of offering names.

 

The dragoon brought Hall back to British lines, and he was then taken to the encampment of the 35th Regiment where he was confined. Put on trial for desertion a few weeks later, Corporal Hall offered a defense that was popular and all too plausible: "he went to get some Rum for the Taylors, about an hour before Sun-Sett, and being in liquor, and stupefied with having been drunk for three or four days before, he missed his road on his Return." He plead that he had no intention of deserting, and pointed out that he'd been a soldier for twenty-two years during which service he'd been twice wounded.

 

Two non-commissioned officers of the 35th Regiment testified to Hall's good character during the time they'd known him. The court may have been predisposed towards lenience, for they did not ask typical questions about whether the defendant had taken clothing with him, attempted to escape, or exhibited any other behavior that suggested he'd planned to abscond. Hall was found guilty, but rather than being shot (as he feared he deserved), he was sentenced to receive eight hundred lashes and to be reduced to the ranks. This was a fairly lenient punishment for the crime, suggesting that the court believed his absence was, in fact, unintended.

 

Hall served as a private soldier in the 35th Regiment for the next year. In the autumn of 1778 the regiment was sent to the West Indies. A two-year gap in the regiment's muster rolls makes it impossible to determine Hall's fate, as he is not on the rolls prepared in August 1780. With such a long career, he may well have been discharged, but it is also possible that the fortunes of war caught up with him and he succumbed to hostility or disease.

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John Alexander, 4th Regiment of Foot, heard the important Article

We know very little about John Alexander, but what we know is provides some insight about the legal aspects of enlistment into the British army. He enlisted in the 4th (King's Own) Regiment of Foot, probably on 14 November 1777, in Philadelphia. It was unusual for men in America to enlist into regular British regiments during the war. Most who wished to join the army in America enlisted into the many Loyalist corps raised to augment the British army.

It's possible that Alexander was a deserter from the Continental army; a soldier named John Alexander went missing from the 5th Pennsylvania after the battle of Brandywine, but the name was common enough that we can't assume it is the same man. Several hundred men deserted from American service in the Philadelphia region in late 1777, discouraged by the string of defeats that Washington's army suffered. A substantial portion of those men are known to have enlisted into Loyalist regiments. It is entirely plausible that a few enlisted into regular British regiments, particularly if they were men with prior British army service. John Alexander may have been an escaped prisoner of war, a returned deserter, or even a veteran who had been discharged and wished to enlist again.

Whatever his background, Alexander was a British soldier from November 1777 until 4 March 1778 when he deserted. He took his spare clothing with him, but not his musket.

On 10 June, as the British were preparing to leave Philadelphia, a patrol of dragoons from the Queen's Rangers, one of the most storied Loyalist regiments, went out of Philadelphia to investigate a report that people coming in to the market from the countryside were being robbed by rebels. The dragoons scoured some woods were the rebels were reported to be hiding. One of them came upon a man "dressed in blue Coat & red Waistcoat with a Gold button and Loop to his hat, standing with a Woman," holding a musket with the butt resting on the ground. The dragoon was able to approach fairly close and challenge the man, brandishing his sword. The man claimed to be a member of the New Jersey militia, and the dragoon took him prisoner.

The militia man was put into the new jail in Philadelphia with other rebel prisoners, but was lodged in a dungeon with suspected deserters. He tried to escape by tunneling through the floor. It was his particular misfortune, however, that the jailer happened to be the former drum major of the 4th Regiment of Foot, who recognized Alexander and questioned him. Alexander initially denied his name and having met the former drum major, but when the jailor struck him with a cane Alexander admitted to both things. He was transferred to the old jail and held there with other deserters.

Preparing to march from Philadelphia to New York occupied the time of the army's administration, so Alexander was kept in confinement until the move to New York was completed; it is not known how the prisoner was conveyed. He went before a general court martial on 24 July in Brooklyn. A serjeant of the 4th Regiment testified to Alexander's enlistment, and deposed that he'd received pay and clothing from the regiment - in other words, that the army had fulfilled its obligations of the enlistment contract. An officer and a trooper of the Queen's Rangers described Alexander's capture.

Put on his defense, John Alexander gave an interesting argument. He claimed that he had not been properly enlisted and assumed himself to be only a volunteer, free to leave at any time he pleased. If he could prove this, he would have a valid case and could not be considered a deserter. He called upon a corporal in the 4th Regiment and the court questioned him:

Was Alexander ever attested as a soldier, that is, did a magistrate attest that he was legally enlisted? The corporal did not know. That worked in Alexander's favor.

Did the corporal have any doubt about the legality of Alexander's enlistment? "Not the least." Bad for Alexander.

"Did he ever hear the Prisoner say whilst he was with the 4th Regt. that he never had been attested?" "Yes he has frequently heard him say so." That was favorable for Alexander; he'd complained about not being attested, and the corporal knew it.

"Does he know of the Prisoner having ever heard the Articles of War read?" This was important, because the Articles of War spelled out the army's obligations to the soldier, and vice versa; hearing them read would mean that Alexander was aware of the laws governing enlistment and desertion. "Not the whole, but he had heard such as Circumstances would occasionally admit of." Not a clear answer. Apparently Alexander had heard only some of the Articles, those which pertained to specific events.

"Did the prisoner ever receive pay as a Soldier?" This was crucial. Alexander said that he'd never been paid, and therefore was under no obligation to the army. The corporal replied, "He received Pay from the Witness himself." Now things looked bad for Alexander.

"Does he know of the Prisoner having heard the 1st Article of War of the 6th Section read?" This Article was important for this particular case. It read,

The Penalty of Desertion: All Officers and Soldiers, who having received Pay, or having been duly inlisted in the Service, shall be convicted of having deserted the same, shall suffer death, or such other Punishment as by a Court-martial shall be inflicted. 

Notice that is says "received pay" OR "inlisted", not AND. Although he denied it, Alexander had done one of these things, received pay. As for having heard the Article, the corporal said that Alexander "has heard it frequently & the Witness himself had told him that he must look upon himself as a Soldier in His Majesty’s Service, as much as if he had been attested before a Magistrate in England."

Things looked very bad for Alexander now, but he put his own question to the corporal, perhaps in the hope of convincing the court that his enlistment was not properly handled: "Did the Prisoner ever receive any Bounty or inlisting Money?" The corporal did not know abou that, but had told him that the enlistment bounty was Guinea and a half. This was similar to peacetime enlistment bounties in Great Britain, but less than typical bounties offered there in 1778. Maybe that's what Alexander's complaint was about; perhaps he'd heard from other recruits about higher bounties. The corporal also indicated that he'd given Alexander "about three quarters of a Dollar which he had at three different times."

Alexander told the court that he'd received only a Pistereen from the corporal, "and that having lent the Corporal money, he thought that that was given him part of Payment." He said that he did not intend to desert, but had gone for wood and was captured, put into jail, and consented to join the militia to escape confinement. He explained that he'd seen the Loyalist dragoons and hidden from his comrades so that he could surrender, and that after he was in captured he sent word to the 4th Regiment so that he could return to their service.

The court was not impressed by John Alexander's testimony, particularly in light of statements by a witness that he himself had called. He was found guilty, and sentenced to death.

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Richard Brunton, 38th Regiment, Engraver

At a glance, the military career of Richard Brunton looks ordinary enough. Born in 1749, he learned the trade of an engraver in his native Birmingham, a city well known for metal crafting trades. Some time in the early 1770s he left his profession and enlisted the 38th Regiment of Foot. He may have been seeking adventure like so many young men who enlisted, but we can only guess at his motivations. The regiment was in Ireland at the time, but like most regiments it sent recruiting officers to cities like Birmingham where willing young men might be found.

At 6 feet 1 inch tall, Brunton was a good candidate for the regiment's grenadier company, and by the time the regiment embarked for America in 1774 he was in that company. This indicates that he had more than just good stature; grenadiers were chosen for their good discipline and capability as well as for their physique. The army, it seems, was a good career choice for him.

As a soldier in the 38th Regiment's grenadier company, Brunton probably marched out on 19 April 1775 and witnessed the outbreak of hostilities in the American Revolution. He was also likely present at the savage battle of Bunker Hill where many of his comrades fell dead and wounded. His company, formed into a composite battalion with other grenadier companies, were at the forefront of the campaigns of General Howe's army in 1776, 1777 and 1778, including the battles of Brooklyn, Brandywine, Monmouth and many others. There is no evidence that he was on any detached duty, so he must have become a hardened campaigner accustomed to long marches in heat and cold, nights in makeshift shelters or no shelter at all, steadiness in the rapid and irregular warfare that typified these campaigns, and making due for extended periods with minimal food, clothing and comforts.

The spring of 1779 found the British grenadier battalions on Long Island, preparing for another campaign season after wintering in relative comfort. On 30 May they sailed up the Hudson River, part of a large force under General Sir Henry Clinton; on 1 June, while other troops landed at Stony Point on the western bank, the grenadiers and others landed at Verplanks Point on the eastern shore. There they built a camp composed of wigwams made from brush since their tents and other baggage had not yet been sent up the river; they'd used this method of encampment many times in the previous years. They proceeded to secure their position.

Perhaps it was restlessness after a long winter, or the irresistible temptation to explore and exploit the surrounding countryside, or even the need to forage for supplemental provisions, that caused the spate of desertions over the next two weeks. Sixteen men absconded from the 1st Battalion of Grenadiers between 3 and 16 June, and presumably others deserted from other corps on Verplanks Point. It was not until the last two men, comrades of Richard Brunton belonging to the 38th Regiment's grenadier company, were caught, tried and sentenced death that the desertions ended. One of the men was pardoned but the other was hanged as an example for the rest. Another deserter who was taken up by American sentries deposed that men were leaving because of harsh treatment by the battalion's commander, but that treatment could've been in response to the first desertions and other irregularities rather than the cause of them. Regardless, Brunton was not there to see the spectacle of his fellow soldier being executed; he had deserted with seven other men on 6 June.

It may be that Brunton simply wandered off during an opportunistic foraging and plundering adventure, but he may have been acting on long-held intentions to leave the service. Whether or not he had a plan when he deserted, he certainly formulated one quickly. He made his way to Boston and set up shop as an engraver, working with others who he may have met when he was part of the city's garrison in 1774, 1775 and 1776. He married in October 1779, to a woman he may have met during the winter of 1777-1778 in Philadelphia.

Richard Brunton's career in the army seemed unremarkable until he deserted, and his reasons for doing so are not known. His subsequent life was characterized by business failures, displacement, criminal activity and other troubles that may have marred his military life as well. In spite of his difficulties, he made a number of singular contributions to American folk art, significant enough that his life and work has been chronicled in a new book. Soldier, Engraver, Forger-Richard Brunton’s Life on the Fringe in America’s New Republic by Deborah M. Child tells the story of this engraver-turned-soldier who established a place for himself in art history even though he never enjoyed success in his life. It includes illustrations of many of Brunton's engravings, paintings and other works which testify to the man's skill as a craftsman. Had he not deserted from the British army, he probably never would have had cause to pursue his trade and create the works that form his legacy.

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William Coleman, 22nd Regiment, proves to be incorrigible

Studies of the British military in the 1770s and 1780s usually make mention of harsh discipline but fail to point out that harsh measures were reserved for men who required them, not the generality of soldiers. Like most societies, each British regiment was composed largely of dutiful men but included a few difficult ones. An example of the latter was William Coleman, who came to be described by an officer of the 22nd Regiment of Foot as "very incorrigible & such a poor looking soldier at the same time."

Coleman joined the 22nd Regiment in January 1766. We have no information on his early career besides his name on the muster rolls. The first remarkable event that we know of is his desertion on 27 July 1778. The 22nd Regiment was in Rhode Island at the time, and under immediate threat from an approaching French fleet and an American army poised to attack the British garrison. Perhaps Coleman knew of the impending danger, but it is just as likely that he wander off for some other reason. Two weeks after he absconded, French ships surrounded the island and American soldiers descended upon it, forcing the British garrison into defensive lines. A three week siege followed, after which the assailants withdrew.

In the aftermath of the siege, a prisoner exchange was negotiated. A cartel ship from Providence arrived in Newport on 8 September carrying British prisoners including William Coleman. But Coleman had been missing since before the siege, so the British did not consider him an exchanged prisoner. He was brought back to his regiment, placed in confinement, and charged with desertion.

Coleman used an interesting defense, one that had been used frequently by deserters from Boston in 1774, 1775 and 1776. He claimed that, while sleeping in a barn some distance from his regiment's encampment, he had been kidnapped "by some Rebel Privateer's Men." Those men, he claimed, carried him across the bay to East Greenwich and then to Providence. There the American commander ordered him sent back to Rhode Island for exchange as a prisoner of war.

The court was not convinced by this somewhat far-fetched story. Even if it was plausible, the chain of events was started by Coleman being absent when he shouldn't have been, an punishable offense in itself. Because desertion had been a problem in Rhode Island, Coleman's sentence was harsh - the court sentenced him to death.

But he was pardoned, and continued on as a soldier. One would think such a brush with death would change a man's ways, but it was not so with Coleman. On 19 December 1779, shortly after the regiment left Rhode Island and took up quarters in barracks on Long Island, New York, he deserted again. He was posted sentry at seven in the evening, but appeared to be a bit tipsy at the time. When the corporal of the guard made the rounds an hour later, Coleman was gone, having left his firelock and cartridge pouch at his post. Notices were circulated to regiments in the area to be on the lookout for him.

Three days later he wandered into the guard room of the 76th Regiment of Foot, a Scottish regiment quartered in Brooklyn. He was drunk. The Scottish soldiers recognized him, and asked if he was William Coleman of the 22nd Regiment. He said he was. They asked if he intended to return to his regiment. He said he didn't know. They decided to insure that he did, detaining him and returning to the 22nd Regiment the next morning.

Coleman was tried once again for desertion. He said in his defense that he was very much in liquor when posted sentry, but that he had no intention of deserting. The fact that he was still in uniform, including wearing his bayonet, when he showed up at the guard room of the 76th Regiment, supported his claim. He was found guilty once again, and this time sentenced to 800 lashes, a typical punishment for men who left their posts but didn't appear to intend to leave the army altogether.

The extent to which this punishment was inflicted is not known. It was common enough for some portion of a corporal punishment to be remitted, but since this was Coleman's second offense it's likely that he received at least part of it. Regardless, it didn't keep him out of trouble. By September 1780 he was in prison yet again for desertion.

This time a special circumstance worked in his favor. There was a backlog of court cases to be heard, and the army was looking for a way to reduce the case load. The adjutant general asked regimental commanders if some of the men, including Coleman, could be tried by regimental courts instead of general courts, even though their crimes warranted the latter. In response to this, the major commanding the 22nd Regiment at the time requested permission to turn Coleman over to a Loyalist regiment because he was "so very incorrigible & such a poor looking soldier at the same time." The request was granted, and Coleman was discharged from the 22nd Regiment on 13 September 1780.

He was supposed to join the Loyal American Rangers, a Loyalist regiment that was about to be sent to Jamaica, a place where the climate was often fatal to British soldiers. Whether or not he actually joined the regiment has not been determined.

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Benjamin Nevil is drafted into the 17th Light Dragoons

Those familiar with the British army know that only two cavalry regiments were sent to serve in the American Revolution, the 16th (Queen's) Light Dragoons and the 17th Light Dragoons. Seldom discussed is how those regiments were changed for American service, and the diversity of individual soldiers who served in them.

Compared to an infantry regiment, a dragoon regiment was small; infantry regiments consisted of ten companies each with three officers and 44 serjeants, corporals, drummers and private soldiers, while dragoon regiments consisted of six troops each composed of three officers and 36 serjeants, corporals, trumpeters and private soldiers. When the 17th Light Dragoons was ordered to America in early 1775, each troop had only about 24 of that number on its actual strength. Besides having to add the men to meet its normal establishment, a serjeant and 17 private men were added to the desired size of each troop. But later in 1775 when it became clear that this would be a long war requiring a stronger army, even more changes were ordered.

For infantry regiments, the size of each company was increased by half, adding a serjeant, a drummer and 18 private soldiers to each company. The 16th Light Dragoons was ordered to America, and both the 16th and 17th were increased substantially in size. The number of troops remained the same, but the size of each troop was increased by one officer and thirty private men - in addition to the increase that had been made the previous year. These new men were dismounted, that is, they were to fight on foot rather than on horseback (although the term "dragoon" originally described soldiers equipped to travel on horseback but fight on foot, by the time of the American Revolution dragoons were, in general, the same as other cavalry and configured to fight on horseback).

All these men had to come from somewhere, and filling the ranks with new recruits would be counterproductive; the purpose of the size increase, after all, was to make the regiments more effective on campaign. For both the infantry and cavalry regiments, men were drafted (that is, transferred) from other regiments to fill the ranks of those going to war; for the two cavalry regiments bound for America, almost all of the required men were drafts rather than recruits. One man drafted into the 17th Light Dragoons was a trooper from the 1st (Royal) Dragoons, Benjamin Nevil.

When Nevil joined the army has not been determined. It is our good fortune to have a detailed description of him, because at the beginning of 1774 he was advertised as a deserter:

Deserted, on the 2d of January, 1774, from a Party of his Majesty’s First (or Royal Regiment of Dragoons) commanded by the Earl of Pembroke, quartered at Boston, Lincolnshire,

                Benjamin Nevil, five Feet eight Inches high, thirty-one Years old, long brown Hair, grey Eyes, dark Complexion, gloomy Countenance, marked with the Small-Pox, strait and well-made, has lost the first Joint of his Left Thumb; born at or near Arlington, in Berkshire, by Occupation a Labourer. Went off in his Regimental white Jacket, laced Hat, and Leather Breeches, and has a Woman with him who passes for his Wife.

                Whoever secures the above Deserter, shall receive Twenty Shillings Reward above the Allowance by Act of Parliament, for apprehending Deserters, on Application to the commanding Officer of the Regiment; or to Mr. Lamb, in Golden-Square, London.

[St. James’s Chronicle (London), 29 January 1774]

The circumstances of this disciplinary digression are not known. What is clear is that Nevil was back with his regiment in time to be drafted into the 17th Light Dragoons in March 1776. He probably arrived in America six months later, when a large convoy carrying recruits and reinforcements arrived in New York in late October. Whether he fought on horseback or on foot is not known, but he appears to have gone quickly into the fight. His regiment was very active in the campaign across New Jersey in late 1776 and the many skirmishes there throughout the early months of 1777.

Service in New Jersey in the first few months of 1777 was very hard on British troops. Quartered in a number of small towns stretching from Fort Lee to Trenton, they spent nights in barns and outbuildings; days were occupied with procurement of desperately-needed forage from the countryside, and protecting the fragile string of outposts from attack by American troops. Soldiers succumbed to illness and wounds, including Benjamin Nevil. He died on 11 March 1777, but the cause of his demise is not known.

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