The American Forces Retreat From Sandusky, June 5-6, 1782

       In my last post, we saw the American forces under the command of Col. William Crawford defeat the opposing Indians forces that were arrayed against them.  Crawford’s force held the field at the cessation of the fighting on May 4, but the Americans were not out of the proverbial “woods” yet.  In this post, we’ll take up the story on the following morning.

       At six o'clock on the morning of the 5th, the firing was renewed between the contending parties, but in a desultory manner, and at long shot only, and so continued during the day.  Little damage was done on either side.  The relative position of the belligerents was unchanged.  The Americans still occupied the island of timber, with their outposts extending well up to the edge of the prairie surrounding them.  The Wyandots on the north and the Delawares on the south were abundantly satisfied with being able to hold the foe between them until reinforcements, hourly expected, should arrive; while the Americans attributed the slackness of their fire to the chastisement of the evening previous.

       Crawford would gladly have attacked the foe at early dawn, but there were obstacles in the way.  Some of his men were sick from the fatigues of the march, some from the extreme heat of the weather, and others from the bad water they had been compelled to drink since leaving the river; and, as already mentioned, there were several wounded.  To give all of these the proper attention and care would require the services of several of the volunteers; and it was thought best, as the savages were in such force, not to attack them until every soldier, unless sick or disabled from wounds, could take part in the engagement.  It was, therefore, determined not to make a general attack upon the Indians until after nightfall.  "We were so much incumbered with our wounded and sick," is the language of [Lt. John] Rose, "that the whole day was spent in their care, and in preparing for a general attack the next night."

       The volunteers felt confident of an easy victory; and there was much in the conduct of the troops the previous day to inspire such a belief in the mind of the commander.  Orders had been obeyed cheerfully; and the officers displayed much bravery and coolness.  The firing interfered but little with the active measures being taken for the coming conflict.  The loss of the Americans through the entire day was four wounded.  Crawford was making every effort to be fully prepared to strike a decisive blow.  Plans were discussed and fully matured for the attack in force.  Suddenly, however, all wore a changed aspect!

       The afternoon was not far advanced when the quick eye of a sentinel, stationed in a small copse to the northeast of the grove, caught sight of an advancing troop, partly to the left and in the rear of the Wyandots, rapidly approaching the lines of the latter.  That they were all mounted he plainly saw.  The next moment disclosed to his astonished vision that they were a body of white troops.  It was [Lt. Col. John] Butler's Rangers.  They had encamped, the evening previous, six miles north, at the mouth of Tymochtee creek.  Crawford was soon informed of this sudden apparition of a civilized foe.  That the savages would be able, in any event, to obtain aid from Detroit, had not been dreamed of by any one in the American army.  It was surmised now, that they had been stationed at Lower Sandusky or upon the Miami of the Lake—the Maumee—and had thus been enabled to reach the Plains in so short a time.  Their appearance was certainly well calculated to strike dismay to the hearts of the whole army. ¹

       It must have been a great surprise for the Patriot forces to see British-aligned Tory forces coming to the support of the Indian forces.  This was Capt. William Caldwell’s company of Butler’s Rangers that had been dispatched to the British stronghold of Detroit.  Because of their supposed involvement in the Wyoming Valley and Cherry Valley massacres of 1778, they were regarded as no better than their savage allies by the Patriot settlers of the backcountry.  Certainly the appearance of this band must have given the Americans no little concern.

       Crawford saw that the contemplated attack must be abandoned, and that a defensive policy would have to be adopted. He immediately called a council of war of the field officers, to take into consideration the changed aspect of affairs.  While they were deliberating, a large reinforcement—apparently two hundred strong— of Shawanese was discovered advancing from the south.  They moved along in full view, and took up a position to the west of the Delawares; so that the trail from the south, which had been followed by the Americans, ran along between the two camps of the savages.  At a distance, in the prairie, parties of the enemy were seen to pass to and fro, and small squads were discovered constantly arriving as reinforcements.  "They kept pouring in hourly from all quarters," are the words of Rose.

       The council of war unanimously resolved upon a retreat that night, as the succors of the enemy rendered their entire force so much superior in numbers, that to risk an engagement would be, in the judgment of all, hazardous in the extreme.  Besides, it was now fairly to be presumed that the enemy would continue to be reinforced.  "Prudence, therefore, dictated a retreat," wrote Rose to the commandant at Fort Pitt. Orders were given, and preparations at once begun, for a retrograde movement, to commence at nine o'clock.  There was, it was evident, no other course to be pursued.

       The volunteers killed were now buried, and fires burned over their graves to prevent discovery.  Of the twenty-three wounded, seven were in a dangerous condition.  Biers were prepared for these.  The wounds of the others were mostly slight; none so bad but they could ride on horseback.  The whole body was to form in four lines, or divisions, keeping the wounded in the center.  By sundown the arrangements were all complete.

       During the afternoon, as in the early part of the day, occasional shots were interchanged between the outposts of the contending parties, but usually at a distance of from two to three hundred yards.  Dunlevy, who was engaged in the edge of the prairie watching the enemy, frequently heard, as during the battle the day before, the voice of Simon Girty.  He was very well acquainted with the renegade, and thought there could be no doubt of his identity, and so expressed himself to his comrades at the time.  It was generally believed among the volunteers—though in this they were mistaken—that Girty had the chief command of the enemy; and many afterward so reported.

       The day had been as hot as the one previous; and, as then, there had been much suffering for the want of water.  John Sherrard sought the pool from which he had supplied his comrades during the battle; but, to his surprise, found it entirely dry.  His narrative of what followed is interesting: "After searching the grove around, I was fortunate enough to find another supply, and again busied myself relieving the men of my company.  At length, overcome with heat and fatigue, I sat down at the foot of a large oak tree, and in a short time fell asleep.  How long I slept I can not say.  I was aroused by some bark falling upon my head from above, which had been knocked off the tree by the balls of the enemy.  I then resumed my task of carrying water."

       It was no sooner dark than the officers went on the outposts and brought in the men as expeditiously and quietly as possible.  The whole body was then formed to begin the march, with Crawford at the head.  Each of the four divisions was commanded by the same field officer as on the outward march, except that of Major Brinton.  This officer being wounded, Major Leet had already taken command of his division.  Just at this time the enemy discovered the intentions of the Americans, and opened a hot fire. Some of the men became alarmed.  This precipitated matters.  A few in the front lines hurried off, and most of those in the rear were not slow to follow, leaving the seven dangerously wounded men; some of whom, however, got off on horseback by the help of kind comrades, who waited for and assisted them.

       It was the express order of Crawford that the wounded should all be taken along; and it was only the confusion arising from the army being so unexpectedly attacked, just at the critical moment the retreat was to have commenced, that interfered with that humane command.  It was, indeed, generally supposed by the officers that all the wounded had been brought off; hence Rose to Irvine: "We secured all our wounded."  Lieutenant Ashley was carried from the field by the brave and magnanimous Captain Biggs, unknown, however, to the army.  Only two, it is believed, were left to the insatiate vengeance of the savages.

       The whole army was soon in motion, with Crawford at their head; and the only wonder is, that the movement did not degenerate at once into a total rout.  Such, however, was not the case, although there was considerable confusion and a great noise.  Says Rose to Irvine, apologetically: "In a body trained to the strictest discipline, some confusion would have arisen, upon such an occasion."  Major McClelland led the division in front, and was soon engaged with the Delawares and Shawanese.  It had been determined at the council to retreat on the same route followed by the army in their march out.  This led due south from the battle-field for a short distance, until the Indian trace was struck, which would then take the army in a course toward the southwest—directly between the two camps of the savages.  It was at this point that McClelland's line suffered severely.  That officer fell from his horse, desperately wounded.  Calling to John Orr, who was near, he told him to take his horse (Orr was on foot) and "clear himself," which he did.  Little did the unfortunate major imagine the awful fate that was awaiting him—or he certainly would have craved the mercy of a bullet through his heart!  Orr afterward related that he heard several of the men who were in the conflict, say that the horsemen on the retreat rode over McClelland; and it was the general belief that he was killed where he fell.  Such, however, was not the fact.  Frightful tortures by the merciless savages were doled out to him afterward.

       Although the enemy had early discovered the movement of the Americans, and had opened fire upon them, yet they were in great confusion and apparent alarm.  It was not clear to them that a retreat was really intended by Crawford.  They were fearful it was only a feint— a ruse or maneuver of some kind, not a flight.  It was, perhaps, this uncertainty', or the well-known aversion of the Indians to night contests, that saved the borderers.  Certain it is the enemy did not make an immediate effort to pursue them.

       While McClelland's party was hotly engaged with the Delawares and Shawanese in front, the other divisions, to avoid the savages, bore off in a southwest direction, leaving the combatants to the left.  This brought them near the swamp before spoken of, into which, owing to the darkness, rode some of the Americans.  The rear division was here attacked by the Indians, and suffered some loss.  Several of the men were compelled to leave their horses hopelessly entangled among the bogs, or stuck fast in the oozy soil.

       The march was continued around the western margin of the swamp with considerable confusion.  When it was supposed by the volunteers that they were entirely beyond the enemy's lines, they changed their course to the southeast.  A little before daylight, the trail they had followed on the inward march was reached; and, at break of day, they came to the site of the deserted village of the Wyandots—Upper Sandusky, Old Town— when a halt was called.

       The three divisions, in their march from the battlefield, had described the half of a circle, the center of which is the site of the present town of Upper Sandusky; but McClelland's division had marched, in a greatly demoralized condition, along the trail leading by the springs, and had already arrived irregularly and in much confusion, at the Old Town.  It was evident they had suffered severely in their contest with the combined forces of the enemy; luckily, however, they had not been pursued far by the savages.

       Detached parties continued to arrive at the deserted village, and the army, in a short time, numbered about three hundred.  It was now discovered that Colonel Crawford was missing—"whose loss," says Rose, "we all regretted."  No one could give any information concerning him;—whether killed, captured, or making his escape through the wilderness, was a matter of conjecture with every one.  Dr. John Knight and John Slover were also missing.  Major McClelland was reported killed.

       The command of the army now devolved upon Williamson, who immediately exerted himself in collecting the different parties, and in bringing order out of the general confusion.  He was powerfully aided by the gallant Rose, and the retreat was again continued.

       It will be remembered that, on the march out, as the army passed along the Indian trace in the woods before reaching the deserted village of the Wyandots, a sugar-camp had been noticed, where, apparently in the early spring, maple sugar had been made by the savages.   Isaac Vance, one of the volunteers from Washington county, as the army was passing along, espied a brass kettle that had been used by the Indians in this camp to boil sap in, and which had apparently been left in the hush through an inadvertence.   This kettle, in the eyes of the backwoodsman, was a prize of too much value to be left in the enemy's country; so, dismounting, and seizing a bowlder [sic], he soon had the utensil flattened, ready for transportation.   It was then securely fastened to his saddle; and, notwithstanding the stirring scenes through which the finder soon after passed, was transported all the way to the home of the borderer. ²

       Not long after the army had reached the open country southeast of the mouth of the Little Sandusky creek, and was well on its way in the Plains, a large body of the enemy was discovered a considerable distance in the rear.  It consisted of mounted Indians and the British light cavalry.  At noon, the army had reached a point on the trail due south of the present site of Bucyrus, in Bucyrus township, Crawford county.  "The enemy," says Rose, "hung on our rear through the Plains;” and they now began to press the Americans.

        The eastern verge of the prairie was now not very far ahead.  By two o'clock, the woodland had almost been reached, when the enemy crowded hard upon their rear, and began a flank movement of the Americans both right and left.  "It was evidently their design," wrote Rose to Irvine," "to retard our march, until they could possess themselves of some advantageous ground in our front, and so cut off our retreat, or oblige us to fight them at a disadvantage.  Though it was our business studiously to avoid engaging in the Plains, on account of the enemy's superiority in light cavalry, yet they pressed our rear so hard, that we concluded on a general and vigorous attack, whilst our light-horse secured the entrance of the woods."  ³

       The Americans, once on the verge of total victory, now seem to be on the verge of annihilation themselves.  The retreat had not turned into a total rout, but the Patriot forces were now without their commander and desperately trying to keep from being surrounded by their savage foes.  Lord willing we’ll pick up the story in my next post.

Christ, not man, is King!

Dale

1)      C.W. Butterfield, An Historical Account of the Expedition Against Sandusky (Cincinnati, OH: Robert Clarke & Co., 1873), p. 214-16. 
2)      Ibid., p. 217-25. 
3)      Ibid., p. 227-28.