Over the years, nike shox I have visited many Revolutionary and Civil War battlefields. On any warm summer weekend, it is common to see families—parents with children from toddlers to teenagers—strolling, running, playing, relaxing and/or picnicking on the grounds where soldiers were killed or wounded fighting for a conviction that was more important than themselves. Don’t misunderstand, I do not expect to see bodies and bloodstains on the grounds of these long-quiet fields of battle, nor would I discourage these family outings. But it is also a worthwhile exercise to stop and reflect on why these lands and parks have been set aside.
Take, for instance, the “Paoli Massacre” battlefield, located in the center of Malvern, Pennsylvania, a quiet Philadelphia suburb about eight miles from the better known (an equally well groomed) Valley Forge. The 40-plus acre Paoli Memorial Grounds could be any park in any city—it even has a section set aside for athletic fields. During the early morning of my visit, the serenity of the site was interrupted only occasionally a barking dog and the raucous gaggle of geese circling overhead.
Only the monuments, interpretive signs, and the mass grave of 52 Continental militiamen who died on this field in 1777 indicate the historical significance and horrific events that played out on of this peaceful park more than 200 hundred years ago. Reading the accounts of the battle describe on the illustrated interpretive panels placed around the battlefield, and contemplating the mass grave, one can only imagine the horrors of one of the briefest—and most vicious—battles of the Revolutionary War.
The Battle of Paoli followed George Washington’s defeat at the Brandywine Creek, only a few miles to the south, earlier that September. The British were nearing their objective of taking control of Philadelphia. After several failed attempts to engage the 14,000 British soldiers led by Lord Cornwallis and General Howe, Washington ordered General Wayne’s division of 2200 men and four cannon to maneuver behind the British and cut off their supply line as the British prepared for their final push into Philadelphia.
On the morning of September 19 after quietly moving into position, Wayne dispatched a letter to Washington: “The Enemy are very quiet, washing and cooking —I believe he knows nothing of my situation — as I have taken every precaution to prevent any intelligence getting to him.” Wayne’s courier, however, was either captured or deserted and the British were aware of his position.
Shortly after Wayne sent this message, drums in the British camp began to beat "to arms."
Standing on the edge of the field where fierce fighting would soon erupt, it is easy to imagine the sound of distant drums and Wayne’s concern of an imminent attack.
Wayne moved his force back to higher ground in the fields and surrounding woodlands. This time, however, the attack was a false alarm. The rallying drumbeat had been for a British force going to Valley Forge to help secure that area.
Being ever cautious, Wayne had planned to move his division again, but rain threatened and he ordered his men to build shelters called “booths” to protect them, their supplies and their gunpowder. The booths, set up in the woods adjacent to the field, were not much larger than “pup tents,” made of fence rails, branches, brush, corn stalks and straw. Wayne's troops spent the night of September 19 and all of September 20 encamped, awaiting reinforcements of 2000 Maryland militiamen.
During maneuvers on the 19th and 20th, a small force of British light infantry and riflemen saw several of Wayne’s sentries not far from the main British force. An errant rifle shot alerted the sentries who escaped back to camp, while the light infantry returned to the British camp.
On the afternoon of September 20, British Major-General
Charles Grey prepared to attack. He ordered a detachment of 1200 men to remove their musket flints and "rely solely on the Bayonet." Late that day, Grey's regiment moved silently toward Wayne's position.
About 11:30 that night, mounted sentries spotted Grey’s force, fired, and rode back to camp with the warning. Wayne roused his troops who turned out quickly and were in battle formation in less than five minutes.
Meanwhile, a small group of 50 British soldiers encountered one of Wayne’s pickets, a group of militia lined up to guard one approach to the camp. In a skirmish that lasted only minutes, half of the pickets were wounded or killed, while the remainder escaped to the camp.
General Grey pressed on, attacking Wayne’s position. One of Wayne’s commanders later wrote, “The enemy last night attacked our little force with all the noise and yells of Hell.”
Panic ensued as British Dragoons then thundered across the camp. A British officer wrote, “Then followed a dreadful scene of havoc—the Dragoons advanced, sword in hand. The clashing of swords and bayonets was more expressive of horror than all the thunder of the artillery.”
A third wave, 600 Scottish Highlanders (the Black Watch), let out Highland war yells and swept across the field without breaking ranks, bayoneting everyone in their path and setting the booths on fire. A British officer later recorded in his journal, “The camp was immediately set on fire; the Light Infantry bayoneted every man they came up upon; this, with the cries of the wounded, formed altogether the most dreadful scene I ever beheld.”
Most of Wayne's force escaped and reassembled the following day. American casualties numbered between 250 and 300. At least 52 were killed on the battlefield. The British lost only one officer and three men killed and perhaps as many as 20 wounded.
In the early-morning chill of September 21, a local farmer cautiously passed through dank woods and onto the site of the Paoli Camp. Blood stained the soil around the bodies of the dead. Broken fences, mutilated corpses, and smells of death marked the scene that was more of a massacre than a battle.
The next day, local farmers gathered to bury the “52 brave fellows” on the field of battle, interred in a trench about 12 by 60 feet. According to local records, “The soldiers were placed in two rows of twenty-six. The burial was done with great care.”
The Battle of Paoli was little more than a brutal footnote in chronicles of the Revolutionary War. The horrors of that night have long passed, leaving behind neatly mowed fields, a cannon-guarded mass grave, and a few monuments that stand as a testament to the bravery and conviction of not only those men on that night, but of all the Continental soldiers and patriots who took a stand to establish the United States of America.
This 44-acre historic site was dedicated on September 21, 2002, the 225th anniversary of the battle, and has been preserved unchanged in its original form: woodland and farm fields.
The battlefield is a short drive from the center of Philadelphia and nearby Pennsylvania and New Jersey communities. A complete tour of the grounds, monuments, and informative signs will take no more than two hours, but will leave a lasting impression.
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