I don't have a lot of time for you today because I was up late last night breaking up the ruckus with these two militiamen a couple of tents down from where I was trying to catch some much-needed shuteye.
Just about the time ole Tater was about to dream about something more pleasing than bugs, redcoats and sickness, I heard loud yelling coming from jake Wennington's tent. I grabbed my trousers and ran to find Jake shoving his tent-mate, William Simon. Even after I broke them up, would you believe Jake had the nerve to say, "I haven't started fighting yet?"
So I took the time to tell them a little story, and you know no one tells stories like the Tater, about one of our American heroes who said something like that - John Paul Jones.
You may not have heard of him yet, but I would imagine they'll soon be writing songs about this character. He's the Scottish-born commander who spit in the British navy's eye when they demanded the surrender when the Bonhomme Richard (named after Benjamin Franklin) was sinking. Jones told them, "Sir, I have not yet begun to fight." More than three hours later, the British commander surrendered his ship, the Serapis, to Jones.
You should have seen the shamed look on Jake's face when I reached this part in my story, but of course, I wasn't close to being finished.
I hate to admit it, but Jones was almost as colorful a character as yours truly, although ole Tater is better looking. He was born July 6, 1747 in Kirkcudbright, Scotland and began his career on the sea as a cabin boy in the British merchant marines at the age of 12.
You may have heard some snickers about him working o slave ships and how he had to high-tail it to North America after he killed a crewman who was plotting mutiny in the West Indies. If I'd caught him on my ship, he would have been shark nuggets.
But being a fugitive from the mother country put Jones in position to join the Continental Navy and within a year of captaining the Providence, he captured 16 British prize ships. The following year, in 1777, Jones took command of the Ranger and he received from the French the first salute given to the new American flag by a foreign warship. Then, here we are two years later, and the battle on Aug. 14, 1779 that will no doubt make John Paul Jones a household name in the new country.
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Showing posts with label Tater Hales. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tater Hales. Show all posts
Sunday, May 18, 2014
Tater Hales' Dispatch from the American Revolution Valley Forge Suffering and Renewal, 1777-78
Well, Ole Tater has had his share of bad times, but nothing compares to the time when Gen. Washington decided to march us to Valley Forge for our winter quarters. Tho' we were feeling pretty good about our victory at Saratoga, many of our comrades were killed at the battle of Brandywine. We knew we could still kick some red coats, but winter had set in and Gen. Washington felt we needed to regroup.
It was a good thing, too, 'cause we were "an army of skeletons . . . naked, starved, sick and discouraged." After marching 25 miles through the snow, without shoes and pretty much just eating trees, Congress decided to make a day of thanksgiving for our victory at Saratoga. They gave us half a pound of rice and water. Well, you don't want to know what ole Tater thought of that mess.
With no food and no clothes, you can imagine how sick we were. More than 3,000 died that winter and more than 1,000 were still too ill for combat. I think we suffered most because our Quartermaster Gen. Thomas Mifflin wanted "glory on the battlefield," not the mundane mess of getting troops supplies."
Gen. Washington fired Mifflin and by March Gen. Nathaniel Green began to bring us our supplies.
Some of our country's patriots didn't come from our own ranks . . . they came from the surrounding towns. A German-born baker named Christopher Ludwig came to our camp to bake bread. He wanted no payment, but I want my future Tater generation to always remember him and to give thanks to him. Without him, we would not have been able to regain our strength.
As food, clothes and supplies came in, we got better physically, but our spirits were still dampened. We didn't look like an army and we sure didn't act like one. Even though Gen. Washington gave orders, some of our men just didn't know how to behave. Then one day, in walked an unbelievable sight. A big, tall, heavy-set Prussian man who went by the title, Baron von Steuben, brings his staff to inspect us. His greyhound dog followed him around, but stayed close 'cause some of us thought greyhound stew sounded pretty good at the time. The baron spoke no English, but you didn't need English to tell us how to use a gun.
He started to whip us into shape, yelling and cursing up a storm, and when we didn't react to his Prussian curses, he got his aides to curse at us in English. He showed each person how to drill and even wrote the army's very first manual of arms and drill. He started out with teaching 100 of his best NCOs, and then they in turn taught the rest of us.
Of course, my grandpappy already taught me how to use my rifle, but this training came just in time for some of these other greenies. Pretty soon, we got to feeling a little bit of pride come back into our unit. Gen. Washington continued to lobby Congress on our behalf and soon we had gotten paid for "sticking it out through the miseries of the winter." Washington even added a ration of rum for each of us. Some of the local farmers began bringing in food and soon we were ready to go, especially since hearing that France had joined us in the war effort.
We broke camp by June and attacked the British during their retreat from Philadelphia, as they were heading back to New York City. We almost lost this battle due to an arrogant and inept Gen. Charles Lee, but as always, Gen. Washington galloped among his men and rallied us to keep driving the British out of our land. I wouldn't say we won this battle at Monmouth Courthouse, but they were definitely on the run. And it was clear to everyone that we were a fair match for 'em!
It was a good thing, too, 'cause we were "an army of skeletons . . . naked, starved, sick and discouraged." After marching 25 miles through the snow, without shoes and pretty much just eating trees, Congress decided to make a day of thanksgiving for our victory at Saratoga. They gave us half a pound of rice and water. Well, you don't want to know what ole Tater thought of that mess.
With no food and no clothes, you can imagine how sick we were. More than 3,000 died that winter and more than 1,000 were still too ill for combat. I think we suffered most because our Quartermaster Gen. Thomas Mifflin wanted "glory on the battlefield," not the mundane mess of getting troops supplies."
Gen. Washington fired Mifflin and by March Gen. Nathaniel Green began to bring us our supplies.
Some of our country's patriots didn't come from our own ranks . . . they came from the surrounding towns. A German-born baker named Christopher Ludwig came to our camp to bake bread. He wanted no payment, but I want my future Tater generation to always remember him and to give thanks to him. Without him, we would not have been able to regain our strength.
As food, clothes and supplies came in, we got better physically, but our spirits were still dampened. We didn't look like an army and we sure didn't act like one. Even though Gen. Washington gave orders, some of our men just didn't know how to behave. Then one day, in walked an unbelievable sight. A big, tall, heavy-set Prussian man who went by the title, Baron von Steuben, brings his staff to inspect us. His greyhound dog followed him around, but stayed close 'cause some of us thought greyhound stew sounded pretty good at the time. The baron spoke no English, but you didn't need English to tell us how to use a gun.
He started to whip us into shape, yelling and cursing up a storm, and when we didn't react to his Prussian curses, he got his aides to curse at us in English. He showed each person how to drill and even wrote the army's very first manual of arms and drill. He started out with teaching 100 of his best NCOs, and then they in turn taught the rest of us.
Of course, my grandpappy already taught me how to use my rifle, but this training came just in time for some of these other greenies. Pretty soon, we got to feeling a little bit of pride come back into our unit. Gen. Washington continued to lobby Congress on our behalf and soon we had gotten paid for "sticking it out through the miseries of the winter." Washington even added a ration of rum for each of us. Some of the local farmers began bringing in food and soon we were ready to go, especially since hearing that France had joined us in the war effort.
We broke camp by June and attacked the British during their retreat from Philadelphia, as they were heading back to New York City. We almost lost this battle due to an arrogant and inept Gen. Charles Lee, but as always, Gen. Washington galloped among his men and rallied us to keep driving the British out of our land. I wouldn't say we won this battle at Monmouth Courthouse, but they were definitely on the run. And it was clear to everyone that we were a fair match for 'em!
Tater Hales' Dispatch from the American Revolution A Spy Tale, Jan. 2, 1777
Earlier today, when the smoke cleared on the battlefield here in Princeton, there stood General Washington in all of his glory. I couldn't help but think of the brave men and women who risked their patriotic necks to gather intelligence to help the general see his way through the smoke, and there was a lot of it as he led the troops across the Delaware River.
But when it was over, the smoke was all in Cornwallis' eyes after the Battle of Princeton. Instead of the British taking Philadelphia as they planned, almost all of New Jersey is now ours. Not too long ago, Washington told his generals what he expected from our spies: "Leave no stone unturned, nor do not speak to expense," he said.
So ole Tater can't help but get a little misty-eyed (and if you snicker, I'll put you flat on your musket) when he thinks about all of those patriots who used their eyes and ears to help the cause. A couple of privates stopped by my tent tonight, and we first started talking about the one who had to be among our bravest.
Everyone's talking about Nathan Hale's last words, so I'm sure some fool newspapers will get them wrong. But what swelled my normally cold as cod heart was what Nathan said to his best friend who tried to talk him out of the foolhardy mission: "I will reflect, and do nothing but what duty demands."
By now, you've probably heard what happened. Nathan posed as a Dutch school teacher, but the British captured him Sept. 21, 1776 with concealed papers that had sketches of fortifications and other information. They hung him at 11 a.m. the next day, but not before he said his already famous line that was paraphrased from the play, "Cato:" "I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country."
The same day Hale was executed, another man was arrested in New York and charged as a spy. Haym Salomon eventually became an interpreter for General von Heister, commander of Hessian mercenaries, but he encouraged quite a few troops to desert.
One of our most successful intelligence came from the Culper Ring, which used codes, ciphers and secret communication links to pick up valuable information from all kinds of gatherings of British and Tories.
One member of the ring was a woman, we only know by her codename, "355." Rumor has it 355, which means lady in the Cipher code, came from a Tory family that gave her an inside link with British commanders.
Lydia Darragh took advantage of the British using her house in Philadelphia for conferences by slipping into a closet and taking notes on their military plans. Her husband then transferred the notes in shorthand on tiny slips of paper that Lydia put in a button mold and covered with fabric. She put the buttons on a coat they sent with their 14-year-old son when he visited his brother, Lt. Charles Darragh, with the American troops outside the city.
There have been many others, going as far back as the beginning of this little tussle we're in, with Paul Revere and the "mechanics," who sabotaged and stole British military equipment in Boston, not to mention watching every move of the redcoats.
I give each one of our people who brought us important information a heartfelt salute. Each tidbit is helping George Washington see a strategy for victory through the smoke of war and a fledgling nation.
But when it was over, the smoke was all in Cornwallis' eyes after the Battle of Princeton. Instead of the British taking Philadelphia as they planned, almost all of New Jersey is now ours. Not too long ago, Washington told his generals what he expected from our spies: "Leave no stone unturned, nor do not speak to expense," he said.
So ole Tater can't help but get a little misty-eyed (and if you snicker, I'll put you flat on your musket) when he thinks about all of those patriots who used their eyes and ears to help the cause. A couple of privates stopped by my tent tonight, and we first started talking about the one who had to be among our bravest.
Everyone's talking about Nathan Hale's last words, so I'm sure some fool newspapers will get them wrong. But what swelled my normally cold as cod heart was what Nathan said to his best friend who tried to talk him out of the foolhardy mission: "I will reflect, and do nothing but what duty demands."
By now, you've probably heard what happened. Nathan posed as a Dutch school teacher, but the British captured him Sept. 21, 1776 with concealed papers that had sketches of fortifications and other information. They hung him at 11 a.m. the next day, but not before he said his already famous line that was paraphrased from the play, "Cato:" "I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country."
The same day Hale was executed, another man was arrested in New York and charged as a spy. Haym Salomon eventually became an interpreter for General von Heister, commander of Hessian mercenaries, but he encouraged quite a few troops to desert.
One of our most successful intelligence came from the Culper Ring, which used codes, ciphers and secret communication links to pick up valuable information from all kinds of gatherings of British and Tories.
One member of the ring was a woman, we only know by her codename, "355." Rumor has it 355, which means lady in the Cipher code, came from a Tory family that gave her an inside link with British commanders.
Lydia Darragh took advantage of the British using her house in Philadelphia for conferences by slipping into a closet and taking notes on their military plans. Her husband then transferred the notes in shorthand on tiny slips of paper that Lydia put in a button mold and covered with fabric. She put the buttons on a coat they sent with their 14-year-old son when he visited his brother, Lt. Charles Darragh, with the American troops outside the city.
There have been many others, going as far back as the beginning of this little tussle we're in, with Paul Revere and the "mechanics," who sabotaged and stole British military equipment in Boston, not to mention watching every move of the redcoats.
I give each one of our people who brought us important information a heartfelt salute. Each tidbit is helping George Washington see a strategy for victory through the smoke of war and a fledgling nation.
Tater Hales' Dispatch from the American Revolution Benedict Arnold A Hero Story?, July 1777
I'm sure much will be written about this man once our little tussle with the mother country is over (no matter how it turns out), but no one can tell a story like ole Tater, so I want to get my two pence worth in about Col. Benedict Arnold.
The man is in the middle of a torrid love affair with himself, just about anyone in his command or out of it will tell you. He can hardly walk by a piece of glass without gazing longingly at his reflection. He also frets endlessly about his superiors appreciating all he's done for our cause.
Arnold also talks loud and has a quick temper.
But he also gets the job done and has helped save our cause more than once. As we were making our strategic retreat from Fort Ticonderoga this week, I couldn't help remembering the role Arnold played in how we took the fort just a little more than two months ago.
The French built this fort that overlooks the Hudson River Valley from the Canadian border in 1775 to protect their fur-trading routes. The British took the fort in 1759 and Gen. Jeffrey Amhurst renamed it Fort Ticonderoga after a nearby town. In Iroquois, the name means "the place between two waters."
When Col. Samuel Parson left Cambridge, Mass., on April 19, 1775 he realized the Continental Army didn't have enough cannons or artillery. But Arnold told him there were plenty of cannons at Ticonderoga, and he went to Cambridge and pleaded with the Committee of Safety to allow him to seize the fort. They gave him the go-ahead, but said he could only take 400 Massachusetts men.
Parson then joined with John Brown and Col. James Easton, and they met Ethan Allen and his Green Mountain Boys, who were already marching toward the fort. Allen joined forces with Arnold at Castleton, and early May 10, they walked through the fort's open gate and easily captured it from the sleeping British.
We also captured Fort Crown Point, which is on the southern tip of Lake Champlain, so we had both forts under our control. Arnold really wanted to be placed in command of the two forts, but Connecticut chose Allen instead. Talk about a man stewing! I checked in on him the next night, and he was still cursing Allen's name.
In a way, I don't blame him. He's helped save our young country more than once. In September 1775, Arnold led about 1,150 riflemen against Quebec up the Kennebec and Dead Rivers through leaky birchwood canoes, spoiled food and starvation until he attacked with only about 650 men remaining. He even took a ball in the leg while trying to bypass a barricade.
Arnold led the retreat and then suddenly turned back on the British at Lake Champlain, and we stomped them at the Battle of Valcour Island.
Some New England officers wanted to have Arnold relieved of his command for the attack, but Congress made him a brigadier general instead and gave him a new horse for the one that was shot out under him.
He also commanded the construction of the gunboats on Lake Champlain and the fleet that helped slow the British as they tried to move on the colonies in October 1776. I've heard some folks say we would have already lost the war if it hadn't been for Arnold's brilliance in the Champlain Valley.
He's also been a little fed up with the suffering of the troops because of the lack of sufficient food, clothing and supplies. I know Arnold has written the Continental Congress countless times for help, and I can't help but wonder if he's not getting a little fed up with it all. I fear there may be a point when his ego will no longer allow him to accept being overlooked and his successes downplayed. I hope I'm just being a little tater-head about this because some big battles almost certainly are ahead of us. I know one way or the other General Arnold will have a say in how they turn out.
The man is in the middle of a torrid love affair with himself, just about anyone in his command or out of it will tell you. He can hardly walk by a piece of glass without gazing longingly at his reflection. He also frets endlessly about his superiors appreciating all he's done for our cause.
Arnold also talks loud and has a quick temper.
But he also gets the job done and has helped save our cause more than once. As we were making our strategic retreat from Fort Ticonderoga this week, I couldn't help remembering the role Arnold played in how we took the fort just a little more than two months ago.
The French built this fort that overlooks the Hudson River Valley from the Canadian border in 1775 to protect their fur-trading routes. The British took the fort in 1759 and Gen. Jeffrey Amhurst renamed it Fort Ticonderoga after a nearby town. In Iroquois, the name means "the place between two waters."
When Col. Samuel Parson left Cambridge, Mass., on April 19, 1775 he realized the Continental Army didn't have enough cannons or artillery. But Arnold told him there were plenty of cannons at Ticonderoga, and he went to Cambridge and pleaded with the Committee of Safety to allow him to seize the fort. They gave him the go-ahead, but said he could only take 400 Massachusetts men.
Parson then joined with John Brown and Col. James Easton, and they met Ethan Allen and his Green Mountain Boys, who were already marching toward the fort. Allen joined forces with Arnold at Castleton, and early May 10, they walked through the fort's open gate and easily captured it from the sleeping British.
We also captured Fort Crown Point, which is on the southern tip of Lake Champlain, so we had both forts under our control. Arnold really wanted to be placed in command of the two forts, but Connecticut chose Allen instead. Talk about a man stewing! I checked in on him the next night, and he was still cursing Allen's name.
In a way, I don't blame him. He's helped save our young country more than once. In September 1775, Arnold led about 1,150 riflemen against Quebec up the Kennebec and Dead Rivers through leaky birchwood canoes, spoiled food and starvation until he attacked with only about 650 men remaining. He even took a ball in the leg while trying to bypass a barricade.
Arnold led the retreat and then suddenly turned back on the British at Lake Champlain, and we stomped them at the Battle of Valcour Island.
Some New England officers wanted to have Arnold relieved of his command for the attack, but Congress made him a brigadier general instead and gave him a new horse for the one that was shot out under him.
He also commanded the construction of the gunboats on Lake Champlain and the fleet that helped slow the British as they tried to move on the colonies in October 1776. I've heard some folks say we would have already lost the war if it hadn't been for Arnold's brilliance in the Champlain Valley.
He's also been a little fed up with the suffering of the troops because of the lack of sufficient food, clothing and supplies. I know Arnold has written the Continental Congress countless times for help, and I can't help but wonder if he's not getting a little fed up with it all. I fear there may be a point when his ego will no longer allow him to accept being overlooked and his successes downplayed. I hope I'm just being a little tater-head about this because some big battles almost certainly are ahead of us. I know one way or the other General Arnold will have a say in how they turn out.
Tater Hales' Dispatch from the American Revolution Saratoga's Turning Point, October 1777
Humanity has won its battle. LIberty now has a country. You know I've never liked fancy speeches and long-winded orators, but those words said what my countrymen and I feel perfectly.
Who said it, you ask? Even if you didn't ask, I'm gonna tell you anyway. It was Marie Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Montier. But you probably know him better as the Marquis de Lafayette.
Yes, he's a Frenchman. He's also a man who thinks quite highly of himself and has even been called "a statue in search of a pedestal."
But already I can tell this is a man who not only loves liberty, but also seems to have fallen in love with America. I hear him talk about how our young country gives a man a chance "to start the world over," borrowing a phrase made famous by Thomas Paine. Lafayette joined our ranks as a major general at the age of 20 after an American agent in Paris gave him a commission. The young whippersnapper aristocrat joined our war just in time. This was a summer that gave us our own flag, with 13 stars and white and red stripes. But then on July 6, two days after our new Independence Day, we lost Fort Ticonderoga on Lake Champlain, along with our much-needed supplies.
When our help came, Lafayette didn't arrive alone. A long list of European soldiers had also joined us, including Baron von Steuben, from Prussia. It wasn't long before lady luck joined us as well, when we had our first major victory of the war at Saratoga Oct. 7. A British army of nearly 7,000 surrendered to a combined force of American militia and Continental regulars.
The end for Burgoyne and his army came on the heels of a long campaign that began with that cursed British victory at Ticonderoga.
General Burgoyne, who the newspaper people like to call "Gentleman Johnny," tried to join forces with General Howe coming north from New York. On the way, they captured Ticonderoga, but we surprised them when they reached our land. Burgoyne's entourage wasn't built to withstand our New York forests, with his 30 carts of his personal junk, including several cases of champagne. Ole Tater can't help but wonder if he ever even opened a bottle after the whipping he gave him.
Our militia already knew Burgoyne was coming, and we really gave him the musket. By the time the two battles of Saratoga were fought, American forces led by Gates and his field general, Benedict Arnold, outnumbered Burgoyne almost 2 to 1.
One of the British officers who was killed was Burgoyne's second-in-command, General Simon Fraser. I've been told his last words were "Oh fatal ambition."
But on our side, the ambition now appears anything but fatal. That ambition, of course, is the liberty that now has a country, as Lafayette said.
Who said it, you ask? Even if you didn't ask, I'm gonna tell you anyway. It was Marie Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Montier. But you probably know him better as the Marquis de Lafayette.
Yes, he's a Frenchman. He's also a man who thinks quite highly of himself and has even been called "a statue in search of a pedestal."
But already I can tell this is a man who not only loves liberty, but also seems to have fallen in love with America. I hear him talk about how our young country gives a man a chance "to start the world over," borrowing a phrase made famous by Thomas Paine. Lafayette joined our ranks as a major general at the age of 20 after an American agent in Paris gave him a commission. The young whippersnapper aristocrat joined our war just in time. This was a summer that gave us our own flag, with 13 stars and white and red stripes. But then on July 6, two days after our new Independence Day, we lost Fort Ticonderoga on Lake Champlain, along with our much-needed supplies.
When our help came, Lafayette didn't arrive alone. A long list of European soldiers had also joined us, including Baron von Steuben, from Prussia. It wasn't long before lady luck joined us as well, when we had our first major victory of the war at Saratoga Oct. 7. A British army of nearly 7,000 surrendered to a combined force of American militia and Continental regulars.
The end for Burgoyne and his army came on the heels of a long campaign that began with that cursed British victory at Ticonderoga.
General Burgoyne, who the newspaper people like to call "Gentleman Johnny," tried to join forces with General Howe coming north from New York. On the way, they captured Ticonderoga, but we surprised them when they reached our land. Burgoyne's entourage wasn't built to withstand our New York forests, with his 30 carts of his personal junk, including several cases of champagne. Ole Tater can't help but wonder if he ever even opened a bottle after the whipping he gave him.
Our militia already knew Burgoyne was coming, and we really gave him the musket. By the time the two battles of Saratoga were fought, American forces led by Gates and his field general, Benedict Arnold, outnumbered Burgoyne almost 2 to 1.
One of the British officers who was killed was Burgoyne's second-in-command, General Simon Fraser. I've been told his last words were "Oh fatal ambition."
But on our side, the ambition now appears anything but fatal. That ambition, of course, is the liberty that now has a country, as Lafayette said.
Tater Hales' Dispatch from the American Revolution Benedict Arnold A Hero Story?, July 1777
I'm sure much will be written about this man once our little tussle with the mother country is over (no matter how it turns out), but no one can tell a story like ole Tater, so I want to get my two pence worth in about Col. Benedict Arnold.
The man is in the middle of a torrid love affair with himself, just about anyone in his command or out of it will tell you. He can hardly walk by a piece of glass without gazing longingly at his reflection. He also frets endlessly about his superiors appreciating all he's done for our cause.
Arnold also talks loud and has a quick temper.
But he also gets the job done and has helped save our cause more than once. As we were making our strategic retreat from Fort Ticonderoga this week, I couldn't help remembering the role Arnold played in how we took the fort just a little more than two months ago.
The French built this fort that overlooks the Hudson River Valley from the Canadian border in 1775 to protect their fur-trading routes. The British took the fort in 1759 and Gen. Jeffrey Amhurst renamed it Fort Ticonderoga after a nearby town. In Iroquois, the name means "the place between two waters."
When Col. Samuel Parson left Cambridge, Mass., on April 19, 1775 he realized the Continental Army didn't have enough cannons or artillery. But Arnold told him there were plenty of cannons at Ticonderoga, and he went to Cambridge and pleaded with the Committee of Safety to allow him to seize the fort. They gave him the go-ahead, but said he could only take 400 Massachusetts men.
Parson then joined with John Brown and Col. James Easton, and they met Ethan Allen and his Green Mountain Boys, who were already marching toward the fort. Allen joined forces with Arnold at Castleton, and early May 10, they walked through the fort's open gate and easily captured it from the sleeping British.
We also captured Fort Crown Point, which is on the southern tip of Lake Champlain, so we had both forts under our control. Arnold really wanted to be placed in command of the two forts, but Connecticut chose Allen instead. Talk about a man stewing! I checked in on him the next night, and he was still cursing Allen's name.
In a way, I don't blame him. He's helped save our young country more than once. In September 1775, Arnold led about 1,150 riflemen against Quebec up the Kennebec and Dead Rivers through leaky birchwood canoes, spoiled food and starvation until he attacked with only about 650 men remaining. He even took a ball in the leg while trying to bypass a barricade.
Arnold led the retreat and then suddenly turned back on the British at Lake Champlain, and we stomped them at the Battle of Valcour Island.
Some New England officers wanted to have Arnold relieved of his command for the attack, but Congress made him a brigadier general instead and gave him a new horse for the one that was shot out under him.
He also commanded the construction of the gunboats on Lake Champlain and the fleet that helped slow the British as they tried to move on the colonies in October 1776. I've heard some folks say we would have already lost the war if it hadn't been for Arnold's brilliance in the Champlain Valley.
He's also been a little fed up with the suffering of the troops because of the lack of sufficient food, clothing and supplies. I know Arnold has written the Continental Congress countless times for help, and I can't help but wonder if he's not getting a little fed up with it all. I fear there may be a point when his ego will no longer allow him to accept being overlooked and his successes downplayed. I hope I'm just being a little tater-head about this because some big battles almost certainly are ahead of us. I know one way or the other General Arnold will have a say in how they turn out.
The man is in the middle of a torrid love affair with himself, just about anyone in his command or out of it will tell you. He can hardly walk by a piece of glass without gazing longingly at his reflection. He also frets endlessly about his superiors appreciating all he's done for our cause.
Arnold also talks loud and has a quick temper.
But he also gets the job done and has helped save our cause more than once. As we were making our strategic retreat from Fort Ticonderoga this week, I couldn't help remembering the role Arnold played in how we took the fort just a little more than two months ago.
The French built this fort that overlooks the Hudson River Valley from the Canadian border in 1775 to protect their fur-trading routes. The British took the fort in 1759 and Gen. Jeffrey Amhurst renamed it Fort Ticonderoga after a nearby town. In Iroquois, the name means "the place between two waters."
When Col. Samuel Parson left Cambridge, Mass., on April 19, 1775 he realized the Continental Army didn't have enough cannons or artillery. But Arnold told him there were plenty of cannons at Ticonderoga, and he went to Cambridge and pleaded with the Committee of Safety to allow him to seize the fort. They gave him the go-ahead, but said he could only take 400 Massachusetts men.
Parson then joined with John Brown and Col. James Easton, and they met Ethan Allen and his Green Mountain Boys, who were already marching toward the fort. Allen joined forces with Arnold at Castleton, and early May 10, they walked through the fort's open gate and easily captured it from the sleeping British.
We also captured Fort Crown Point, which is on the southern tip of Lake Champlain, so we had both forts under our control. Arnold really wanted to be placed in command of the two forts, but Connecticut chose Allen instead. Talk about a man stewing! I checked in on him the next night, and he was still cursing Allen's name.
In a way, I don't blame him. He's helped save our young country more than once. In September 1775, Arnold led about 1,150 riflemen against Quebec up the Kennebec and Dead Rivers through leaky birchwood canoes, spoiled food and starvation until he attacked with only about 650 men remaining. He even took a ball in the leg while trying to bypass a barricade.
Arnold led the retreat and then suddenly turned back on the British at Lake Champlain, and we stomped them at the Battle of Valcour Island.
Some New England officers wanted to have Arnold relieved of his command for the attack, but Congress made him a brigadier general instead and gave him a new horse for the one that was shot out under him.
He also commanded the construction of the gunboats on Lake Champlain and the fleet that helped slow the British as they tried to move on the colonies in October 1776. I've heard some folks say we would have already lost the war if it hadn't been for Arnold's brilliance in the Champlain Valley.
He's also been a little fed up with the suffering of the troops because of the lack of sufficient food, clothing and supplies. I know Arnold has written the Continental Congress countless times for help, and I can't help but wonder if he's not getting a little fed up with it all. I fear there may be a point when his ego will no longer allow him to accept being overlooked and his successes downplayed. I hope I'm just being a little tater-head about this because some big battles almost certainly are ahead of us. I know one way or the other General Arnold will have a say in how they turn out.
Tater Hales' Dispatch from the American Revolution Crossing the Delaware - Dec. 26, 1776
People never had to tell me what to do, so I never put much of my Tater brain to think much about leaders. But I've changed my mind after watching Gen. Washington since we had to high-tail it out of New York. Not only did he keep this army together to fight the British another day, but he's kept the soldiers ready to do anything, including crossing a frozen Delware River.
I watch him just like all the Continental soldiers do.
Last night with everyone's mind on Christmas, Gen. Washington ordered readings of Thomas Paine's "Common Sense," just published three days ago in Philadelphia.
But I can't help but wonder what awaits this army, as well as its general, on the other side of this frozen pond. What are the consequences now that we've crossed? What would they be if we didn't cross? These are the questions that must be going through the general's mind, yet you never see Gen. Washington waiver once he makes a decision.
Some musket-mouth, smart-alecks poked fun at the general's retreat after the disastrous defeat at Long Island.
But Gen. Washington himself put it best. "The army had to be saved at all costs," he said.
"Unless we are absolutely forced into, we shall avoid a large battle. With the fate of America at stake, our job is to prolong this war as much as possible."
John Adams said the difference at Long Island was "in general, our generals were outgeneraled." I'm not the quickest revolver on the battlefield, but if the look on Gen. Washington's face is telling me anything, I say that won't happen again. The general seems to know he needs to take a gamble to hold the troops together and keep our little revolution alive.
Since the defeat at Long Island, followed by losses at Forts Washington and Lee on the Hudson River, our army's been in a sad condition. Our 6,000 troops are tired, hungry and footsore. Half of the volunteers plan on leaving as soon as their enlistments expire by the first day of 1777. The army limped its way through New Jersey to this spot on the Delaware River, with Trenton and its British and Hessian mercenaries not too far away.
But we look at our general and find renewed hope. This army is still alive. The long winter's almost over. We have more fight left in our liberty-craving souls.
This is just Tater thinking on his way to Trenton, but the bottom line after this miserable winter of 1776 is this: The general seems to think we're about to do something big. So do I.
I watch him just like all the Continental soldiers do.
Last night with everyone's mind on Christmas, Gen. Washington ordered readings of Thomas Paine's "Common Sense," just published three days ago in Philadelphia.
But I can't help but wonder what awaits this army, as well as its general, on the other side of this frozen pond. What are the consequences now that we've crossed? What would they be if we didn't cross? These are the questions that must be going through the general's mind, yet you never see Gen. Washington waiver once he makes a decision.
Some musket-mouth, smart-alecks poked fun at the general's retreat after the disastrous defeat at Long Island.
But Gen. Washington himself put it best. "The army had to be saved at all costs," he said.
"Unless we are absolutely forced into, we shall avoid a large battle. With the fate of America at stake, our job is to prolong this war as much as possible."
John Adams said the difference at Long Island was "in general, our generals were outgeneraled." I'm not the quickest revolver on the battlefield, but if the look on Gen. Washington's face is telling me anything, I say that won't happen again. The general seems to know he needs to take a gamble to hold the troops together and keep our little revolution alive.
Since the defeat at Long Island, followed by losses at Forts Washington and Lee on the Hudson River, our army's been in a sad condition. Our 6,000 troops are tired, hungry and footsore. Half of the volunteers plan on leaving as soon as their enlistments expire by the first day of 1777. The army limped its way through New Jersey to this spot on the Delaware River, with Trenton and its British and Hessian mercenaries not too far away.
But we look at our general and find renewed hope. This army is still alive. The long winter's almost over. We have more fight left in our liberty-craving souls.
This is just Tater thinking on his way to Trenton, but the bottom line after this miserable winter of 1776 is this: The general seems to think we're about to do something big. So do I.
Saturday, May 17, 2014
Tater Hales' Dispatch from the American Revolution Declaration of Independence
Folks have just about lost their independence fever minds here lately, except for a few good-for-nothing traitorous Tories like that worm Willie who runs the general store and has probably been sending his own little dispatches across the ocean. The last time I saw Willie the worm, he asked me why in the world would we not want to be subject to the most powerful country in the world.
"There are lots of reasons, worm-boy," I told him, "but I only need one. We're gonna kick them out of our land for trying to shove a sissy sport like soccer on us."
These old Tater eyes see more and more people wearing their independence bonnets these days. Finally, folks in these parts are speaking more of Tater's language instead of trying to kiss that fat king's crown while he's trying to kick ours all the way south of Georgia. First, there was Thomas Paine's "Common Sense," which came out in January. The title alone got my attention - you know how Tater feels about plain old common sense - and there was plenty in Paine's work. He called for us colonists to rebel against the British monarchy (I always thought that was a funny word, sounds more like some kind of fancy bird) and proclaim our independence. But it wasn't just the title that got Tater's attention. Paine made us feel this was our time to show what we're made of by rebelling against "a violent abuse of power" and throw away the tyranny of a king just like my horse Sir Liberty Bell III of Salem Hills, Va.
"These are the times that try men's souls," Common Sense began: "The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of his country, but he that stands it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered."
I hope at least my grandchildren will one day read these words, but you never know what writings will be handed down to future generations. The worst fear many of us independence patriots have is for the colonies to win this fight for freedom, give birth to a country and one day have citizens who forget what we broke from the mother ship for in the first place. Freedom, to us, is life. To some of us, it will be death. We don't want it to ever be used as a catchphrase or an excuse for laziness or wrongdoing.
"The cause of America is in a great measure the cause of all mankind," Paine wrote. "We have it in our power to begin the world over again... The birth-day of a new world is at hand."
The war began in April 1775 at Lexington and Concord and soon spread to Bunker Hill and Breed's Hill, but in the past year, independence has spread like yellow fever. In June, Richard Henry Lee read a resolution that proclaimed the right of the colonies to be free and independent states, absolved from any connection to Great Britain. Lee's resolution led to five men - John Adams, Roger Sherman, Benjamin Franklin, Robert Livingston and Thomas Jefferson - hammering out the details for a new kind of declaration - one that proclaimed a new nation, independent and free. All Willie the worm needs to know, he can learn from those powerful words Thomas Jefferson wrote to know what this war is really about: the basic fact "that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with inalienable rights," and "that to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed."
For those of you in Great Britain who may have trouble with learning, this means we no longer consent. We could hear the Liberty Bell ringing outside the State House after they adopted the Declaration of Independence, and I hear General Washington made copies of the important paper and read it to his Army who are preparing for a fight against the British Armada at Long Island, N.Y. People throughout the colonies are lighting fires and launching rockets all night to celebrate.
When we win our independence, I hope Americans will remember what it took to form this country and never take this date, or the freedoms they enjoy because of what we're doing, for granted. The worst thing that could happen would be for any American to just look at the fourth day of July as a day to not work. The war isn't even a year old, and we already realize the price that has to be paid. I hope future Americans will never fail to realize it as well.
"There are lots of reasons, worm-boy," I told him, "but I only need one. We're gonna kick them out of our land for trying to shove a sissy sport like soccer on us."
These old Tater eyes see more and more people wearing their independence bonnets these days. Finally, folks in these parts are speaking more of Tater's language instead of trying to kiss that fat king's crown while he's trying to kick ours all the way south of Georgia. First, there was Thomas Paine's "Common Sense," which came out in January. The title alone got my attention - you know how Tater feels about plain old common sense - and there was plenty in Paine's work. He called for us colonists to rebel against the British monarchy (I always thought that was a funny word, sounds more like some kind of fancy bird) and proclaim our independence. But it wasn't just the title that got Tater's attention. Paine made us feel this was our time to show what we're made of by rebelling against "a violent abuse of power" and throw away the tyranny of a king just like my horse Sir Liberty Bell III of Salem Hills, Va.
"These are the times that try men's souls," Common Sense began: "The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of his country, but he that stands it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered."
I hope at least my grandchildren will one day read these words, but you never know what writings will be handed down to future generations. The worst fear many of us independence patriots have is for the colonies to win this fight for freedom, give birth to a country and one day have citizens who forget what we broke from the mother ship for in the first place. Freedom, to us, is life. To some of us, it will be death. We don't want it to ever be used as a catchphrase or an excuse for laziness or wrongdoing.
"The cause of America is in a great measure the cause of all mankind," Paine wrote. "We have it in our power to begin the world over again... The birth-day of a new world is at hand."
The war began in April 1775 at Lexington and Concord and soon spread to Bunker Hill and Breed's Hill, but in the past year, independence has spread like yellow fever. In June, Richard Henry Lee read a resolution that proclaimed the right of the colonies to be free and independent states, absolved from any connection to Great Britain. Lee's resolution led to five men - John Adams, Roger Sherman, Benjamin Franklin, Robert Livingston and Thomas Jefferson - hammering out the details for a new kind of declaration - one that proclaimed a new nation, independent and free. All Willie the worm needs to know, he can learn from those powerful words Thomas Jefferson wrote to know what this war is really about: the basic fact "that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with inalienable rights," and "that to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed."
For those of you in Great Britain who may have trouble with learning, this means we no longer consent. We could hear the Liberty Bell ringing outside the State House after they adopted the Declaration of Independence, and I hear General Washington made copies of the important paper and read it to his Army who are preparing for a fight against the British Armada at Long Island, N.Y. People throughout the colonies are lighting fires and launching rockets all night to celebrate.
When we win our independence, I hope Americans will remember what it took to form this country and never take this date, or the freedoms they enjoy because of what we're doing, for granted. The worst thing that could happen would be for any American to just look at the fourth day of July as a day to not work. The war isn't even a year old, and we already realize the price that has to be paid. I hope future Americans will never fail to realize it as well.
Tater Hales' Dispatch from the American Revolution Declaration of Independence
Folks have just about lost their independence fever minds here lately, except for a few good-for-nothing traitorous Tories like that worm Willie who runs the general store and has probably been sending his own little dispatches across the ocean. The last time I saw Willie the worm, he asked me why in the world would we not want to be subject to the most powerful country in the world.
"There are lots of reasons, worm-boy," I told him, "but I only need one. We're gonna kick them out of our land for trying to shove a sissy sport like soccer on us."
These old Tater eyes see more and more people wearing their independence bonnets these days. Finally, folks in these parts are speaking more of Tater's language instead of trying to kiss that fat king's crown while he's trying to kick ours all the way south of Georgia. First, there was Thomas Paine's "Common Sense," which came out in January. The title alone got my attention - you know how Tater feels about plain old common sense - and there was plenty in Paine's work. He called for us colonists to rebel against the British monarchy (I always thought that was a funny word, sounds more like some kind of fancy bird) and proclaim our independence. But it wasn't just the title that got Tater's attention. Paine made us feel this was our time to show what we're made of by rebelling against "a violent abuse of power" and throw away the tyranny of a king just like my horse Sir Liberty Bell III of Salem Hills, Va.
"These are the times that try men's souls," Common Sense began: "The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of his country, but he that stands it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered."
I hope at least my grandchildren will one day read these words, but you never know what writings will be handed down to future generations. The worst fear many of us independence patriots have is for the colonies to win this fight for freedom, give birth to a country and one day have citizens who forget what we broke from the mother ship for in the first place. Freedom, to us, is life. To some of us, it will be death. We don't want it to ever be used as a catchphrase or an excuse for laziness or wrongdoing.
"The cause of America is in a great measure the cause of all mankind," Paine wrote. "We have it in our power to begin the world over again... The birth-day of a new world is at hand."
The war began in April 1775 at Lexington and Concord and soon spread to Bunker Hill and Breed's Hill, but in the past year, independence has spread like yellow fever. In June, Richard Henry Lee read a resolution that proclaimed the right of the colonies to be free and independent states, absolved from any connection to Great Britain. Lee's resolution led to five men - John Adams, Roger Sherman, Benjamin Franklin, Robert Livingston and Thomas Jefferson - hammering out the details for a new kind of declaration - one that proclaimed a new nation, independent and free. All Willie the worm needs to know, he can learn from those powerful words Thomas Jefferson wrote to know what this war is really about: the basic fact "that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with inalienable rights," and "that to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed."
For those of you in Great Britain who may have trouble with learning, this means we no longer consent. We could hear the Liberty Bell ringing outside the State House after they adopted the Declaration of Independence, and I hear General Washington made copies of the important paper and read it to his Army who are preparing for a fight against the British Armada at Long Island, N.Y. People throughout the colonies are lighting fires and launching rockets all night to celebrate.
When we win our independence, I hope Americans will remember what it took to form this country and never take this date, or the freedoms they enjoy because of what we're doing, for granted. The worst thing that could happen would be for any American to just look at the fourth day of July as a day to not work. The war isn't even a year old, and we already realize the price that has to be paid. I hope future Americans will never fail to realize it as well.
"There are lots of reasons, worm-boy," I told him, "but I only need one. We're gonna kick them out of our land for trying to shove a sissy sport like soccer on us."
These old Tater eyes see more and more people wearing their independence bonnets these days. Finally, folks in these parts are speaking more of Tater's language instead of trying to kiss that fat king's crown while he's trying to kick ours all the way south of Georgia. First, there was Thomas Paine's "Common Sense," which came out in January. The title alone got my attention - you know how Tater feels about plain old common sense - and there was plenty in Paine's work. He called for us colonists to rebel against the British monarchy (I always thought that was a funny word, sounds more like some kind of fancy bird) and proclaim our independence. But it wasn't just the title that got Tater's attention. Paine made us feel this was our time to show what we're made of by rebelling against "a violent abuse of power" and throw away the tyranny of a king just like my horse Sir Liberty Bell III of Salem Hills, Va.
"These are the times that try men's souls," Common Sense began: "The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of his country, but he that stands it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered."
I hope at least my grandchildren will one day read these words, but you never know what writings will be handed down to future generations. The worst fear many of us independence patriots have is for the colonies to win this fight for freedom, give birth to a country and one day have citizens who forget what we broke from the mother ship for in the first place. Freedom, to us, is life. To some of us, it will be death. We don't want it to ever be used as a catchphrase or an excuse for laziness or wrongdoing.
"The cause of America is in a great measure the cause of all mankind," Paine wrote. "We have it in our power to begin the world over again... The birth-day of a new world is at hand."
The war began in April 1775 at Lexington and Concord and soon spread to Bunker Hill and Breed's Hill, but in the past year, independence has spread like yellow fever. In June, Richard Henry Lee read a resolution that proclaimed the right of the colonies to be free and independent states, absolved from any connection to Great Britain. Lee's resolution led to five men - John Adams, Roger Sherman, Benjamin Franklin, Robert Livingston and Thomas Jefferson - hammering out the details for a new kind of declaration - one that proclaimed a new nation, independent and free. All Willie the worm needs to know, he can learn from those powerful words Thomas Jefferson wrote to know what this war is really about: the basic fact "that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with inalienable rights," and "that to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed."
For those of you in Great Britain who may have trouble with learning, this means we no longer consent. We could hear the Liberty Bell ringing outside the State House after they adopted the Declaration of Independence, and I hear General Washington made copies of the important paper and read it to his Army who are preparing for a fight against the British Armada at Long Island, N.Y. People throughout the colonies are lighting fires and launching rockets all night to celebrate.
When we win our independence, I hope Americans will remember what it took to form this country and never take this date, or the freedoms they enjoy because of what we're doing, for granted. The worst thing that could happen would be for any American to just look at the fourth day of July as a day to not work. The war isn't even a year old, and we already realize the price that has to be paid. I hope future Americans will never fail to realize it as well.
Tater Hales' Dispatch from the American Revolution Retreat at Long Island, Summer 1776
One thing that gets this old tart's dander up is when some folks show their coward's tail while others stand up and fight like true soldiers, but that's exactly what your favorite Tater saw here in New York this month. We were outnumbered almost 2 to 1 and suffered a dreadful defeat at Long Island this day, but let me assure you we will fight another day, thanks to some clever strategic retreating. The redcoats came at us with just about everything, especially after they heard about that little piece of paper we signed in Philadelphia. I heard General Washington had the Declaration of Independence copied and read to his entire Army July 9.
But already the British Gen. William Howe and Admiral Lord Richard Howe had begun to bring in 30 battleships in the New York harbor, with 1,200 cannon, 30,000 soldiers, 10,000 sailors and 300 supply ships. I heard Howe even had the audacity to say, "Peace will be made within 10 days after my arrival." Peace must have a different meaning in the mother country.
You won't believe this, but both those British scoundrels tried writing General Washington to tell him they would pardon us, but he wouldn't even read it, because they didn't address him as "General." I had my own ideas of what they could do with those letters, but the general just refused them. We have our own kind of pardon, but we like to call them musket balls.
However, Washington did kind of tell them what they could do with the pardon they were offering. "Having committed no fault, we need no pardon; we are only defending what we deem to be our indisputable rights," he said. Three British frigates - the Phoenix, Rose and Greyhound - were causing us all kinds of trouble from Long Island to Staten Island, and then the Brits came ashore Aug. 27. The truth is we almost lost it all because of some stupid mistakes when General Cornwallis attacked. Many just turned tail and ran like dogs. Some even burned the bridge over the Gowanus Creek, making it impossible for others to retreat safely.
When the Germans attacked at Prospect Park, some had to hide in the woods. Lord Stirling helped save the day by leading a force of 250 Maryland men who held off the British to allow most of the army to escape. Most of them were captured or killed. I heard only 10 made it back to the main body of our army.
Stirling himself was left no choice but surrender, but he refused to give up his sword to a British commander. Instead, he surrendered to a German general. Night began to fall and Howe paused so he decided to try to wait us out. Meanwhile, General Washington began an all-out evacuation. Those Massachusetts Marbleheaders, a fine bunch of fishermen, rowed us across the East River to Manhattan at dusk under cover of a heaven-sent fog.
By the time the fog lifted the next morning, all the British found were empty trenches. We heard later that a freedom-loving woman named Mrs. Murray helped us by holding up General Howe in her home. While she offered him refreshments, our troops made their getaway. Still, we lost 1,407 patriots, and 312 of them were killed. But I don't think Howe still thinks he will win as easily as he did before the battle. Old Ben Franklin tried to tell him when he responded to a letter Howe sent him:
"This war against us is both unjust and unwise: posterity will condemn to infamy those who advised it; and even success will not save from some degree of dishonor those who voluntarily engage to conduct it." In other words, Admiral Howe, you will see much more of us.
But already the British Gen. William Howe and Admiral Lord Richard Howe had begun to bring in 30 battleships in the New York harbor, with 1,200 cannon, 30,000 soldiers, 10,000 sailors and 300 supply ships. I heard Howe even had the audacity to say, "Peace will be made within 10 days after my arrival." Peace must have a different meaning in the mother country.
You won't believe this, but both those British scoundrels tried writing General Washington to tell him they would pardon us, but he wouldn't even read it, because they didn't address him as "General." I had my own ideas of what they could do with those letters, but the general just refused them. We have our own kind of pardon, but we like to call them musket balls.
However, Washington did kind of tell them what they could do with the pardon they were offering. "Having committed no fault, we need no pardon; we are only defending what we deem to be our indisputable rights," he said. Three British frigates - the Phoenix, Rose and Greyhound - were causing us all kinds of trouble from Long Island to Staten Island, and then the Brits came ashore Aug. 27. The truth is we almost lost it all because of some stupid mistakes when General Cornwallis attacked. Many just turned tail and ran like dogs. Some even burned the bridge over the Gowanus Creek, making it impossible for others to retreat safely.
When the Germans attacked at Prospect Park, some had to hide in the woods. Lord Stirling helped save the day by leading a force of 250 Maryland men who held off the British to allow most of the army to escape. Most of them were captured or killed. I heard only 10 made it back to the main body of our army.
Stirling himself was left no choice but surrender, but he refused to give up his sword to a British commander. Instead, he surrendered to a German general. Night began to fall and Howe paused so he decided to try to wait us out. Meanwhile, General Washington began an all-out evacuation. Those Massachusetts Marbleheaders, a fine bunch of fishermen, rowed us across the East River to Manhattan at dusk under cover of a heaven-sent fog.
By the time the fog lifted the next morning, all the British found were empty trenches. We heard later that a freedom-loving woman named Mrs. Murray helped us by holding up General Howe in her home. While she offered him refreshments, our troops made their getaway. Still, we lost 1,407 patriots, and 312 of them were killed. But I don't think Howe still thinks he will win as easily as he did before the battle. Old Ben Franklin tried to tell him when he responded to a letter Howe sent him:
"This war against us is both unjust and unwise: posterity will condemn to infamy those who advised it; and even success will not save from some degree of dishonor those who voluntarily engage to conduct it." In other words, Admiral Howe, you will see much more of us.
Dispatches from the American Revolution - the Legend of Tater Hales
Tater Hales can best be described by one of his own statements: "People say dogs forgive easily. Well, Tater Hales ain't no dog."
The 50-something year-old Virginian uses his anger, currently directed at the British government and their tyranny over the American colonies, in dispatches he sends to the small hometown newspaper in Virginia he bought with the money he brought back from the French and Indian War. He somehow finds himself conveniently where historic events happen and uses his unique perspective in the stories he sends back home. Even if flies and mosquitoes can't stand Tater, let's see how the British soldiers take him.
Prologue
I know you whippersnappers out there don't know who I am, but you're gonna know me soon. My name is Tater Hales, and I fought for our former motherland in that old French and Indian War. I won't say what I did with the red uniform when I came back.
Anyway, I come back home and just try to start up a little old rag, just like ole Ben, and King George starts poking his nose in our business. So now ole Tater's poking his nose in the highness' business.
I'm dispatching what I see in the colonies, what they say to get old George fired up, what I see the redcoats doing, and what we do back to them. Tater hears some business will be going on in the Boston Harbor. I'm not sure exactly what it's going to be yet. But ole Tater always gets answers, even if it takes a good ole punch in the nose to get 'em talking. One thing you can stake your little teabags on: You can trust ole Tater to get you the story.
The 50-something year-old Virginian uses his anger, currently directed at the British government and their tyranny over the American colonies, in dispatches he sends to the small hometown newspaper in Virginia he bought with the money he brought back from the French and Indian War. He somehow finds himself conveniently where historic events happen and uses his unique perspective in the stories he sends back home. Even if flies and mosquitoes can't stand Tater, let's see how the British soldiers take him.
Prologue
I know you whippersnappers out there don't know who I am, but you're gonna know me soon. My name is Tater Hales, and I fought for our former motherland in that old French and Indian War. I won't say what I did with the red uniform when I came back.
Anyway, I come back home and just try to start up a little old rag, just like ole Ben, and King George starts poking his nose in our business. So now ole Tater's poking his nose in the highness' business.
I'm dispatching what I see in the colonies, what they say to get old George fired up, what I see the redcoats doing, and what we do back to them. Tater hears some business will be going on in the Boston Harbor. I'm not sure exactly what it's going to be yet. But ole Tater always gets answers, even if it takes a good ole punch in the nose to get 'em talking. One thing you can stake your little teabags on: You can trust ole Tater to get you the story.
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