Cobblestones Home : Colonial Lives : Private Joseph Plumb Martin at the Battle of the White Plains

When I awoke this morning, I prepared to march off to a place called the White Plains. With a few others I was supposed to meet up with another garrison to fight the British. A man ten feet in front of me called my name and told me that it was time to go. After rounding up the two regiments and starting to march off, I could see the in fear our men's eyes. Who could blame them? For all we know none of us will be coming back. To be honest, I am scared too.

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Thursday, October 24, 1776
As I walked to relieve the guard of sentry duty to do my shift, I think of how the British will soon be upon us. But let them come. I will meet them with gunfire and, they will wish they never came. When I got there, I tapped the sentry on the shoulder, and he got up and walked into the mess of tents. I sat on the ground thinking of how cold it was and that I was hungry because rations were so low, in fact, the starvation had already killed half a dozen horses. Without winter clothing or blankets, we are freezing. To make it worse, there is no food. It is a miserable setting. The only thing that is keeping me going is my love for the thought of liberty.

My shift at watch seemed so long and cold. I thought my fingers were going to fall off. When I thought I was at the brink of madness, someone touched me on the shoulder. My shift was over. So like the man before me, I walked into the jumble of tents, walked into my grimy tent and lay down on a small cot by the flap of a door.

As I lay on my small, rickety old cot, I remember how I came to the army. It was my turn in line to enlist, but with the quill in my hand, I had second thoughts. I was about to get out of line when a man bumped my arm making a line on the paper by accident. I had made my mark and was officially joined, in a few weeks, I am here regretting being born. Being in the army is something I will never forget.

Friday, October 25, 1776
    When I awoke this morning, I prepared to march off to a place called the White Plains. With a few others I was supposed to meet up with another garrison to fight the British. A man ten feet in front of me called my name and told me that it was time to go. After rounding up the two regiments and starting to march off, I could see the in fear our men's eyes. Who could blame them? For all we know none of us will be coming back. To be honest, I am scared too.

Monday, October 28, 1776
    We attack!We marched and marched, occasionally camping along the way. When we got to the White Plains, we saw the British and our forces advancing toward one another. The British wear red coats and headgear of bearskin caps, leather caps or tricorn hats depending on whether the troops were grenadiers, light infantry or battalion company men. Before we were able to ready ourselves, the battle had started. We marched into the field and positioned ourselves behind a stone wall and waited for the enemy. They came near to our position and took possession of an orchard. We decided to attack when they were going to open fire on the other regiment in the field. They were difficult to see, so we would make our move when we saw the flashes of their muskets.

Monday, October 28, 1776
    We retreat!The time to attack was approaching and, we had to fire when our commander gave the order. I felt a knot in my stomach and I saw one man throwing up probably because of the tension. Usually for the first few commands we would attack when ordered, but after that it was just a matter of how fast you could load your musket. I heard the the FIRE command so, I aimed and fired. Usually I do not look to see if I hit my target, but for some reason this time I did and I was shocked to see my musket ball lodge itself into a British soldier’s head. I probably would have thought more on this, but at that moment I felt a musket ball fly past my ear. So I got down on my stomach and reloaded my musket and fired again. When I had done that many times, I was out of musket balls and powder. The man on the left of me offered me some musket balls and gunpowder then we heard our commander sound a retreat.

Monday, October 28, 1776
    The retreat continues!As we started to run, just to my right I saw a musket ball lodge itself into the neck of the man on my right. Seeing him die was probably why I ran so fast because cannon shot was flying all about us, and the British were trying to outflank us. Probably a combination of them all. Either way I was terrified. In my own foolish terror I looked back as the British were nearing the wall. What I saw was a man lying wounded against the wall. It was a man that I had seen before. He was in the Connecticut regiment as I am. He was two men down from me in formation. He was just sitting there moaning in pain. I wanted to help him, but I knew that there was little I could do and I myself would most likely be killed in the process, so I kept going. Just then the Hessians were jumping over the wall. One of them jumped over right next to him. Without hesitation, he shoved his bayonet into the man’s chest. I almost screamed, but thought if I did, I would run out of breath and the men might think of me as weak, so I looked ahead and kept running. We ran north for days until we were told that the British had set up heavy artillery just ahead. Because of that, we spent a few miserable days in a swamp.   When we marched again, it was at night. Under the Redcoats’ noses, we slipped away with the wounded and all. We got to a ford in a place called Peek Hill and crossed the river to Stony Point and then marched south until we reached New Jersey.We stopped and made camp at a village called Hackensack.

Epilogue

In the Battle of the White Plains the British lost 230 men, and the colonists had about 130 killed, wounded or captured. After they retreated into New Jersey, General Howe marched to Manhattan and took Fort Washington. It was marked as a British victory probably because the colonists retreated, but the British suffered more casualties. Joseph Plumb Martin survived the war and lived out the rest of his life in Maine. He settled in a town near the mouth of Penobscott river.

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