All language subtitles for [SubtitleTools.com] The.American.Revolution.2025.S01E04.720p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.H.264-RAWR

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Mankind have ever been so prone

to yield implicit obedience
to that authority

to which they have long been
accustomed

that there are few examples of
resistance,

unless the wanton abuse of power
has rendered it necessary.

When this is the case,

the feelings of the man
and the patriot are awakened,

and both the peasant
and the statesman are urged

to struggle even in blood.

No suffering which Britain
can inflict

will reduce America
to submission.

The thunder of their artillery
may lay waste the cities,

but the spirit of
the people is unconquerable.

Mercy Otis Warren.

We think about
the kind of anticolonial,

insurgent uprisings,

independence movements
of the 20th century,

and think of those as being sort
of the Third World fighting back

against the sort of
imperial colonial powers.

You don't always recognize
the fact

that the United States
actually started that.

England is
the natural enemy of France.

She is an enemy at once
grasping, ambitious,

unjust, and perfidious.

The invariable
and most cherished purpose

in her politics has been, if
not the destruction of France,

at least her overthrow
and her ruin.

Charles Gravier,
Comte de Vergennes.

The Comte de Vergennes,

the French foreign minister,

was determined to avenge
his country's humiliating defeat

in the Seven Years' War.

He had already persuaded
Louis XVI

to open French ports
to American merchants

for the selling
of American goods

and the buying of French ones,

and even to provide some funds

with which the Americans could
purchase guns and ammunition,

provided they did so in secret.

The French needed
to reorganize their army.

They were reforming their navy.

So they did start
to send clandestine weapons,

they started to send money,
they started to send uniforms

to the "insurgents" in America

because they didn't want to have
an open warfare

against the British
at the time, yet.

At the end of 1776,

the Continental Congress
had sent

70-year-old Benjamin Franklin,

the most widely admired American
on earth,

to try to talk France
into providing much more help.

Franklin understood that
the Americans

could not compete
with the British Army and Navy

unless France entered the war,

and that the French
would not dare do so

unless the Americans
showed that they could win.

The last time he had heard
from America,

prospects did not look bright.

The "Declaration of
Independence"

had proved American seriousness,

but the invasion of Canada
had been a disaster,

and British forces had defeated
Washington on Long Island,

then driven him
out of New York City.

After a secret meeting
with Vergennes in Paris

in January of 1777,

Franklin promised that if France
and its ally Spain

were to join the Americans,

Britain would be reduced

to a state of
"weakness and humiliation."

But continuing reports of
American defeats

were not encouraging,

and Vergennes
refused to meet again.

He also feared that
the thirteen former colonies

would never come together
as a nation.

Publicly,
Franklin remained optimistic,

but privately, he was anxious
for better news from home

that might persuade the French
to join the American Revolution.

Those
who live under arbitrary power

do nevertheless approve
of liberty and wish for it.

'Tis a common observation here
that our cause is

the cause of all mankind,

and that we are fighting
for their liberty

in defending our own.

Though Benjamin Franklin

did not yet know it,

George Washington's army
had stunned the British

and lifted Patriot spirits

by taking the garrison
at Trenton, New Jersey,

on the day
after Christmas 1776.

Though
the rebels seem to be ignorant

of the precision, order,
and even of the principles

by which
large bodies are moved,

they possess
some of the requisites

for making good troops,

such as extreme cunning,
great industry,

and a spirit of enterprise
upon any advantage.

Though it was once the fashion
of this army

to treat them in the most
contemptible light,

they are now become
a formidable army.

Lieutenant William Harcourt.

But now the British
were on the move again.

General William Howe
sent General Charles Cornwallis

and some 9,000
redcoats and Hessians

to recapture Trenton

and trap the rebel army
against the Delaware River.

Washington decided to fight
rather than retreat.

To do otherwise, he said,

would be to destroy
the "dawn of hope."

On January 2, 1777,

he posted 1,000 men
along the road from Princeton,

a college town
twelve miles away,

with orders to slow Cornwallis'
column until evening.

The Patriots contested
every inch of ground

as they fell back
through Trenton

to join
most of Washington's army

arrayed on the south side
of the Assunpink Creek.

At dusk, when the advance guard
of Cornwallis' column

started across the lone
stone bridge over the Assunpink,

American artillery opened up
on them

with what Henry Knox proudly
called "great vociferation."

Three times, the redcoats
tried to cross the bridge.

Three times,
American fire hurled them back.

Perhaps one hundred Americans
would be killed or wounded

before darkness fell,

but the British lost
three times as many.

Cornwallis called a halt.

His forces still outnumbered
Washington's,

and the creek
was fordable upstream.

"We'll go over," Cornwallis
reportedly told his commanders,

"and bag him in the morning."

Washington ordered
a small detachment

to stay on their hillside
that night,

tending campfires
and banging entrenching tools

to make the enemy believe
they were digging in.

Meanwhile, the rest of his army
would slip silently away,

following unguarded back roads
to get behind Cornwallis

and attack
his rear guard at Princeton.

At dawn, two British regiments

on their way

to reinforce Cornwallis

saw Americans

marching toward them.

The British
"were as much astonished,"

Patriot General Henry Knox
would write to his wife Lucy,

"as if an army had dropped
perpendicularly upon them."

The British fired their cannon,

then charged
with fixed bayonets.

The American Commander,
General Hugh Mercer's, horse

was shot out from under him.

He fought with his sword
as long as he could

before being mortally wounded
by British bayonets.

His men began to fall back.

Washington once again
galloped to the front,

ignoring the bullets
flying all about him,

exhorting his men
to stand and fight.

One of his aides
covered his eyes,

fearful of seeing his
commander shot from his saddle.

He's really lucky.

Bullets are going
all around him,

everybody else is dying,
he's never scratched.

He assumes
he's never going to be killed.

Now, there's probably a lot of
people in war that assume that

and they get killed.

And we never hear about them.

He doesn't believe in God
in the total Christian sense,

but he believes in Providence.

Providence. He really thinks
the gods, or God,

is on our side and his side.

Washington's men held.

Veteran Continentals
joined them.

Now it was the Americans' turn
to charge.

"I never saw men"
look "so furious as they did,"

one remembered.

The fate
of this extensive continent

seemed suspended by
a single thread.

But happy for us,
happy for unborn millions,

that we had a general
who knew how to take advantage,

and by a masterful maneuver

frustrated
the designs of the enemy.

Lieutenant Samuel Shaw.

George Washington
was no military colossus.

He was no Frederick the Great
or Napoleon.

His natural instincts,
I think,

were to preserve
the Americans intact

so they could fight another day.

But this caution

was occasionally complemented
by boldness.

For the most part,
Washington saw his primary task

as holding
the Continental Army together,

because it represented
the rebellion.

Without the Continental Army,
there would be no United States.

Seventy Americans
had been killed or wounded

in the Battle of Princeton,

but the enemy
had lost another 450--

killed, wounded, or captured.

By the time
Cornwallis realized

Washington had fooled him at
Assunpink Creek that morning,

it had been too late
to catch him.

And when he
and the rest of his army

reached Princeton that evening,

Washington
and his army had vanished again.

Everyone was so
frightened that it
was completely forgotten

even to obtain information about
where the Americans had gone.

But the enemy now had wings,
and, it was believed,

had flown to the mountains
of Morristown.

Captain Johann Ewald.

Morristown,
New Jersey, a tiny village

in the heart of the thickly
forested Watchung Mountains,

would be Washington's
winter headquarters

for the next five months.

It was out of reach
of the British Navy

but well suited for raiding
British outposts

and for keeping an eye out

for a British advance
from New York.

Most of the troops who had
offered to stay after Trenton

went home as soon
as their reenlistment was up.

By the end of January,

Washington had fewer than
3,000 Continentals in his camp.

But encouraged
by Patriot victories

at Trenton and Princeton

and angered by the excesses
of British occupation,

New Jersey militiamen
now rallied to him.

They are
actuated by resentment now.

And resentment coinciding
with principle is

a very powerful motive.

John Adams.

Whenever
British foraging parties

ventured from their outposts,
Patriots attacked them...

at Maidenhead and Quibbletown,
Bound Brook and Drake's Farm,

Piscataway
and English Neighborhood,

and at least 50 other places.

That winter, more British
and Hessian troops were killed

fighting over forage
than would fall in battle.

The British lost men
who were not easily replaced.

The rebel loss was soon repaired

by drafts from the militia.

It inured them to hardships,
and it emboldened them

to look a British
or a Hessian soldier in the eye,

whose very face would make
a hundred of them run

after the Battle of Brooklyn.

Justice Thomas Jones.

And now New Jersey
Loyalists found themselves

the targets
of vengeful Patriots.

At Morristown, Patriots hanged
two Loyalist officers,

and got 33 of their men to
enlist in the Continental Army

by threatening
to hang them, too.

General Howe's hope
of pacifying the state

had brought civil war instead.

If one thinks of this
as a British Empire

and British subjects,

who are contending
for their rights, right,

then it's a civil war.

Then it's family against family,

sometimes
brother against brother.

It's hard to tell
who the good guys are

and who the bad guys are.

This is a predicament that
is incredibly fraught

and incredibly difficult
for people to sort out.

This inability
to really figure out

who is the enemy here
is a problem.

They're marching through
the countryside,

and they don't know.

"This farm, is this farm--
are these Loyalists?

"Are there rebels in there?

Are they going to shoot
at us out of the window,"

which does happen.

Who do you trust?

The frequent attacks
forced the British

to abandon most
of their New Jersey outposts.

Winter would end
in frustration and failure.

The next will be
a trying campaign.

And as all that is
dear and valuable

may depend upon the issue of it,

let us have a respectable army,

such as will be competent
to every exigency.

George Washington.

Spring was coming.

Armies would soon be
again on the move.

And Washington
wanted to be ready

for whatever the British
were planning next.

Congress had come back
to Philadelphia,

but while they were in exile
in Baltimore,

it had become clear

that expecting delegates
to make instant decisions

about the battlefield
was impractical.

They had voted to grant
General Washington

total control over his army
for a period of six months

and authorized him
to imprison without trial

suspected Loyalists or anyone
who refused to supply his army.

Some delegates had feared
that affording Washington

such powers
would make him a dictator,

betraying the principles

for which they were
supposed to be fighting.

General Nathanael Greene
sought to reassure them.

I can see no evil nor danger

to the states in delegating
such powers to the general.

There was never a man who
might seem more safely trusted,

nor a time when there
was a louder call.

Most of Washington's
new recruits signed on

for three years
and a ten-dollar bonus,

but those who signed up
for the duration of the war

were promised
a twenty-dollar bonus,

and 100 "free" acres of Indian
land when the war was over.

When we think
about what was offered

to the Continental soldier,

Indian land
at the end of it all--

that land hasn't
been taken, ceded, bought.

That land is still Indian land, right?

It tells you that the entire
Revolution is premised

on the future possibility.

These soldiers were different

from the men who had rallied
after Lexington and Concord.

Most of them had been
farmers and artisans,

propertied men with taxes
to pay, creditors to appease,

crops to sow and harvest.

From now on,
the Continental Army

would be made up predominantly
of the poorest of the poor--

jobless laborers
and landless tenants,

second and third sons
without hope of an inheritance,

debtors and British deserters,

indentured servants
and apprentices,

felons hoping to win pardons
for their service,

immigrants from Ireland,

and immigrants from Germany,

or their descendants
who had never learned English.

John Adams had worried that
only "the meanest, idlest,

most intemperate
and worthless men" in America

could ever be persuaded
to serve more than a year.

But victory would be
impossible without them.

When patriotic speeches
and free rum

failed to attract
enough recruits,

some states instituted drafts.

Names were drawn from a hat.
Married men were exempted.

Propertied draftees
wanting to avoid service

could hire substitutes
at fees to be negotiated

with their replacements.

Some towns managed to
avoid sending any men to war

by paying men
from neighboring villages to go.

South Carolina advertised

for "vagrants and idle
disorderly persons."

Thousands of African Americans,
enslaved and free,

served alongside Whites
in units from New England

all the way south to Georgia.

Some volunteered,
some were drafted.

Many stood in for their
gun-shy enslavers.

Connecticut and Rhode Island
would later promise

enslaved recruits their freedom
when the war ended.

From 1777 onward,
the American Revolution,

begun in part to defend the
interests of property-owners,

would be fought

mostly by men who owned
little or no property at all.

Montreal.

Two deserters from
the rebel country informed me

that my property
had been seized,

and that my wife
and the children

had been turned out of my house

and sent off through
the woods, snowstorms,

and bad roads.

John Peters.

To escape persecution
and fight for his king,

the Vermont Loyalist John Peters
had fled to Canada in 1776,

leaving behind his wife Ann
and their six children.

After his defection,
Patriots seized his home

and evicted his family.

Carrying their infant son,

Ann Peters
managed to get everyone

all the way to Lake Champlain,

where they were spotted
by a British boat

and carried north
to a rendezvous with John.

They were "naked and dirty,"
he remembered, but safe.

In the weeks that followed,

John Peters began to recruit
American Loyalists

for a new regiment--
the Queen's Loyal Rangers.

He would command it, and his
now-15-year-old son, John Jr.,

would be among
the first to sign up.

The smallpox has made

such headway in every quarter
that I find it impossible

to keep it from spreading
through the whole army.

As fresh recruits
made their way

into the Continental Army camps,
some carried with them smallpox,

the scourge that had threatened
the army

from the beginning
of the Revolution.

Washington had always resisted
ordering inoculation,

because it took men
out of action for weeks.

But now he decided
to run the risk.

I have determined

not only to inoculate
all the troops now here

that had not had smallpox

but shall order the doctors
to inoculate the recruits

as fast as they come in.

The British troops
were less vulnerable to smallpox

because they had been exposed
more to it

in Scotland
and Ireland and England.

Washington made a decision that

to serve
in the Continental Army,

you had to first
undergo inoculation.

And that was probably

the single most important
military decision he made.

Private
Joseph Plumb Martin reenlisted

and received his inoculation
that spring

along with 400
other Connecticut recruits

at a Continental Army
supply depot

at Peekskill
in the Hudson Highlands.

He had been just 15

when he first joined
the Connecticut militia.

After enduring combat,
cold, hunger,

and a bout of
near-fatal illness,

Martin had decided
he'd had enough

and left his militia regiment
in December.

But life on his grandparents'
farm soon bored him,

and when local draftees thought
he might be talked into serving

in their place
in the Continental Army,

they began bidding
against one another.

I thought
I might as well endeavor

to get as much
for my skin as I could.

I forget the sum.

They were now freed
from any further trouble,

at least for the present,

but I was again a soldier.

By the middle of May,

Washington's force
at Morristown had grown

to nearly 12,000 men.

There is a clock calm

at this time in the political
and military hemispheres.

The surface is smooth
and the air serene.

Not a breath, nor a wave.

No news, nor noise.

John Adams.

By what means,
may I ask,

do you expect to conquer
America?

If you could not effect it
in the summer,

when our army
was less than yours,

nor in the winter,
when we had none,

how are you to do it?

You cannot be so insensible

as not to see that we have
two-to-one the advantage of you,

because we conquer by
a drawn game

and you lose by it.

Thomas Paine.

In London,
Lord George Germain,

the secretary of state
for America,

was embarrassed by
how long the war was taking

and concerned about growing
opposition to it in Parliament.

Germain found the setbacks
at Trenton and Princeton

"extremely mortifying,"

thought Sir Guy Carleton's
failure

to capture Fort Ticonderoga
the previous autumn inexcusable,

believed the Howe brothers'
repeated offers of pardons

to rebels "sentimental,"

and insisted they instead force
Americans to undergo

what he called

"a lively experience
of losses and sufferings."

Running of the war
largely comes down

to Lord George Germain,

who is coordinating
and orchestrating

military operations
from Britain.

In logistical terms,

fighting a war 3,000 miles
from the home islands was

a major enterprise in the days
of sailing ships.

Christopher Brown:
When the British government

gets information about
what's happening on the ground,

they're already
weeks out of date.

And then they're issuing
orders for things

that will happen two to three
months in the future.

You can think about what
that means

for actually making decisions.

General John Burgoyne,
a dashing favorite of the King,

had persuaded Germain
to place him in charge

of an army in Canada,

promising to succeed in a second
invasion of the Colonies,

where General Carleton
had failed.

I do not
conceive any expedition

can be so formidable
to the enemy

or so effectual to close the war

as an invasion from Canada
by Ticonderoga.

Burgoyne proposed
a three-pronged attack.

He would lead an army
south to seize Ticonderoga

and then move on to take Albany;

to the west,
a smaller diversionary force

would advance via Lake Ontario
and the Mohawk River Valley,

rallying support among Indians
and Loyalists as they went;

finally, Sir William Howe
was to lead his army

up the Hudson from New York

to complete the juncture
of the three forces,

isolating New England.

General Howe had other plans.

I am fully persuaded

the principal army
should act offensively

to get possession of
Philadelphia,

where the enemy's chief strength
will certainly be collected.

The rebels are at present
buoyed up

by hopes of assistance
from France.

If that door were shut by
any means,

it would, in my opinion, put
a stop to the rebellion.

In 18th-century European wars,

the capture of an enemy's
capital city

usually brought
the war to a close.

Of course, America had
no capital city

in the sense of Paris in France
or London in Britain.

But it did have Philadelphia,

which was seen as the political
headquarters of the rebellion.

Howe became obsessed with
the capture of Philadelphia

and the defeat of
Washington's army.

Because Lord Germain
had failed to reconcile

the two incompatible strategies,

his two commanders--
Howe and Burgoyne--

would plan
two distinct campaigns

in which neither
would support the other.

There would be
no rendezvous on the Hudson.

But Burgoyne was so sure
of success

that even before he set sail,

he had bet the opposition leader
in Parliament

a sizeable sum that he would
"be home victorious

by Christmas Day" 1777.

If the frenzy
of hostility should remain,

the messengers of justice
and of wrath

await them in the field,

and devastation, famine,
and every concomitant horror

that a reluctant
but indispensable

prosecution of military duty
must occasion.

By the time
he reached Quebec,

Burgoyne had convinced himself

that thousands of
Native Americans

would join his army.

In fact, no more than 500 men
answered his call--

Mohawks, Algonquins, Abenakis,
and Wyandots--

drawn from seven villages
along the St. Lawrence River.

They joined him
for many reasons:

to seek the honors of war,

to receive British goods
in payment of their service,

and out of an eagerness
to settle old scores

with the hated people they
called Bostonians.

The Hudson River Valley,
the Mohawk River Valley,

the Adirondack Mountains,
Lake Champlain,

and up to
the St. Lawrence River Valley,

that's been the battlefield

for the colonial powers
for centuries.

And our people
were swept up in it,

and a lot of what happened had
more to do

with what kings and queens
in Europe were deciding.

A major chess tournament
happened here,

and we were the pawns.

On June 20, 1777,

Burgoyne's enormous army began
moving south on Lake Champlain.

Scores of birch bark canoes

paddled by Native Americans
came first.

They were followed by
Royal Navy warships

and 200 bateaux

carrying more than 6,500
British and German regulars,

Loyalist troops,
and French-speaking Canadians,

along with a number of children
and hundreds of women.

Fort Ticonderoga,
on the west side of the lake,

was Burgoyne's first target.

It was now linked by
a floating bridge

to a separate hilltop
fortification on the east side

called Mount Independence.

Determined to take
both outposts,

Burgoyne sent forces down
each side of the lake by land.

He expected he would have
to mount a full-scale siege,

but a British officer
quickly spotted

a fatal flaw
in the rebel defenses.

About a mile southwest
of Ticonderoga

stood a hill that
overlooked both forts.

It remained undefended.

If British guns could be
hauled to the high ground,

both Fort Ticonderoga
and Mount Independence

would be completely exposed.

When astonished Patriots
spotted redcoats

peering down from the hill
on the afternoon of July 5th,

American General
Arthur St. Clair

ordered both fortifications
abandoned.

The next morning, British troops
raised the King's colors

above Fort Ticonderoga.

The Americans fled
in two directions,

with Burgoyne's men
right behind them.

After hours of tramping
in the heat,

those Patriots heading east
called a temporary halt

at a tiny deserted frontier
settlement called Hubbardton.

The morning
after our retreat,

orders came very early
for the troops to refresh

and be ready for marching.

Some were eating,
some were cooking,

and all in a very unfit posture
for battle.

Then there was a cry:
"The enemy are upon us!"

Ebenezer Fletcher,
2nd New Hampshire.

Ebenezer Fletcher
was a sixteen-year-old

from New Ipswich, New Hampshire.

As the menacing line of
redcoats moved closer,

firing volleys as they came,

the 2nd New Hampshire fired back
and then began to seek cover.

Many of our party
retreated into the woods.

I made shelter for myself
and discharged my piece.

But before I had time
to reload it,

I received a musket ball
in the small of my back

and fell with my gun cocked.

Elsewhere,
the fighting intensified.

In the fierce combat
that followed,

the Americans
more than held their own

against some of Britain's

best-trained
professional soldiers.

In the end, the British won,

but they were too tired

to pursue
the retreating Americans.

Though in great pain,

Ebenezer Fletcher
decided to escape;

he slipped away into the forest,

eluded hungry wolves
and bands of Loyalists,

and eventually made it home
to New Ipswich, New Hampshire.

Once he healed, he would
return to serve out

his three-year enlistment
in the Continental Army.

It does me no injury
for my neighbor

to say there are twenty gods
or no god.

It neither picks my pocket,
nor breaks my leg.

Most of the revolutionaries

belonged to
Protestant denominations,

but there were Catholics
and Jews among them, too,

as well as Muslims,

whose faith had crossed
the Atlantic on slave ships.

Central to the philosophy

of some of the most influential
creators of the United States

was their belief
in a Supreme Being

but one who did not interfere
in the affairs of men

or distinguish between faiths.

They were deists,

and they believed it was
each individual's responsibility

to lead a virtuous life, which
could only come from tolerance

and a lifetime of learning:
the pursuit of happiness.

The revolutionaries believed

that the American people
would have to be educated.

Without education, there could
be no virtue in the populace,

and without virtue
in the populace,

the government would fail.

Republics are based on authority
coming from the bottom up,

not like monarchies
from the top down.

So you require
an educated, virtuous--

they use that term
over and over,

drawing it from antiquity--

virtuous population to sustain
a republican government.

Our sister
states of Pennsylvania

and New York
have long subsisted

without
any established religion at all.

They have made
the happy discovery

that the way
to silence religious disputes

is to take no notice of them.

Let us, too,
give this experiment fair play.

Thomas Jefferson.

To Lord Germain,

I have the honor
to inform your Lordship

that the enemy were dislodged
from Ticonderoga

and Mount Independence,
and were driven,

on the same day, beyond
Skenesborough on the right

and to Hubbardton on the left.

General John Burgoyne.

The armies had been
moving at a dizzying pace.

Burgoyne's forces had reached
Skenesborough by July 9th,

but they had now outrun
their gigantic supply train.

Burgoyne decided to send
his guns by water,

south on Lake George.

But his men were to march

through the woods to Fort Edward

on the east bank of the Hudson

just 23 miles away.

General Philip Schuyler,

commander of the Continental
Army's Northern Department,

sent axmen into the woods

to slow Burgoyne's
overland advance.

He would let
the forest fight for him.

The narrow path between
Skenesborough and Fort Edward

ran along a twisting stream
called Wood Creek.

The Americans felled trees

every few feet
on both sides of the road

so that their tangled branches
made the path impassable;

they also destroyed
some 40 crude bridges

that crossed and recrossed
the creek

and used boulders to flood the
boggy ground that surrounded it.

It would take Burgoyne's men
three exhausting weeks

to turn the path into a road
their wagons could navigate.

And he was still a long way from
his main objective--Albany.

O the American war!

I heard, I saw, I felt,
smelled, and tasted its woes

for ninety-two long months:

famines, sores, sicknesses,
plagues, battles;

houses ransacked and burned;
towns depopulated;

gardens made graves.

Roger Lamb.

Among the men
in Burgoyne's army was

Irish-born Corporal Roger Lamb,

who kept his memories alive
in watercolors and in print.

By now, 400 more
Native Americans

from the Great Lakes--

Fox, Menominee, Ojibwe,
Potawatomi, Sauk, and Ho-Chunk--

had joined Burgoyne.

His Indian allies attacked
retreating Patriot forces.

In one instance, they killed
22 men and scalped their corpses

to terrify those
sent out in search of them.

This strikes a panic
in our men

which is not to be wondered at,

when we consider
the hazards they run

by being fired at
from quarters,

and the woods so thick

they can't see three yards
before them,

and then to hear
the cursed war whoop,

which makes the woods ring
for miles.

General John Glover.

Settlers were attacked, too,

with little regard
for their loyalties.

A young woman named Jane McCrea,

on her way to meet
her Loyalist fiancé, was killed.

And when her scalp was
brought into Burgoyne's camp,

he threatened
to hang the perpetrator.

We don't really
know much about Jane McCrea.

She seems to have had
reddish-brown hair

and been an average person.

But very quickly,
Jane McCrea becomes a blonde

and she has very long,
beautiful hair.

And she's pure and fair.

And she's been plucked out
of life right in her prime.

Darren Bonaparte: It was
just too captivating and tragic

and scary a thing.

That became part of the
propaganda aspect of the war.

It was used against us.

What happens
is the American propagandists

are not simply attacking
Indians;

they're using it to attack
the British themselves

and British policy.

It's that the British sponsor
Indian warfare

that kills Jane McCrea,

and that becomes
a very, very powerful piece

of cultural argument.

Hundreds of Patriot soldiers

continued to flee southward.

By the end of July 1777,

most of what was left of
the American forces in the area

had withdrawn to Saratoga,

a small cluster
of houses north of Albany.

To General Washington,
our army is weak in numbers.

I foresee that
all this part of the country

will soon be in their power

unless we are speedily
and largely reinforced.

General Schuyler.

Washington had been shocked

to learn of Ticonderoga's fall,

but he also shared
Nathanael Greene's view

that "General Burgoyne's
triumphs

"may serve to bait his vanity

and lead him
on to his total ruin."

To try to bring on that ruin,

Washington took
a calculated risk

and sent some of his
best officers north--

General Benedict Arnold,
whose "conduct and bravery"

he greatly admired, as well
as Colonel Daniel Morgan

and his sharpshooting
frontiersmen from Virginia.

General Washington is
certainly a most surprising man,

one of nature's geniuses,

a heaven-born general
if there is any of that sort.

That a Negro-driver should,

with a ragged banditti of
undisciplined people,

the scum and refuse of
all nations on Earth,

so long
keep a British general at bay--

it is astonishing.

It is too much.

Nicholas Cresswell.

Burgoyne remained confident

he would capture Albany.

He assured Lord Germain that
the obstacles

the Patriots were placing
in the path of his army

were merely acts
of "desperation and folly."

He had once hoped to join
forces with General Howe

on the Hudson River,

but Howe was already
headed for Philadelphia.

General Howe can't go
overland through New Jersey

because the Americans are
strong enough

that they could really harass
the column

that he has to send down there.

So, he decides to send
his force by ship.

With favorable winds,

it should have taken the fleet
a little over a week.

But winds died
or blew the wrong way.

Lightning storms
split masts and ripped sails.

Water and provisions ran low.

Instead of trying
to sail up the Delaware River

under Patriot guns,

the British would go
still further south

and approach Philadelphia
via the Chesapeake Bay.

I wish we could but
fix upon their object.

Their conduct is
really so mysterious

that you cannot reason upon it

so as to form any certain
conclusions.

When Washington
finally got word

that the British had entered
the Chesapeake,

he realized
where they were headed

and hurried his army
to defend Philadelphia.

I think there can be no doubt

that Howe aims at this place.

He gives us an opportunity of
exerting the strength

of all the middle states
against him,

while New York and New England
are destroying Burgoyne.

Now is the time.

Never was so good
an opportunity for my countrymen

to turn out and crush

that vaporing,
blustering bully to atoms.

John Adams.

By early August,
General Burgoyne was in trouble.

He had reached the Hudson
at Fort Edward,

but he was still 50 miles
from Albany.

He would press on,

but to do that,
he needed more provisions.

When he heard that
only a handful of militia

were guarding a sizable
rebel depot at Bennington,

he ordered nearly 800 men--

British, German,

Native-American,
French-Canadian,

and Loyalist troops--
to seize it.

The men spoke at least
five different languages.

Their commander,

Lieutenant Colonel
Friedrich Baum,

was certain his disciplined
forces had nothing to fear

from what he called
"uncouth militia."

Baum does not know English.

He doesn't
really know the terrain.

There is some confusion
about where they're going,

who they're dealing with.

They go out towards Bennington,

and they are met by
a large number of Americans

that had assembled there that
they just had not anticipated.

There were far more
than "a handful" of militiamen;

some 1,800 New Englanders
and New Yorkers

were waiting for them.

Four miles west of Bennington,

Colonel Baum spread his force
in a wide arc

with two strong points--
a hastily-built redoubt

atop a forested 300-foot hill
in the center,

manned by British and German
troops,

and a second redoubt
on a less lofty hill

defended by John Peters, who had
led his Queen's Loyal Rangers

south from Canada

back
to near his old home in Vermont.

On August 16th,
at 3:00 in the afternoon,

the Patriot commander,
John Stark of New Hampshire--

a hard-fighting veteran

of Breed's Hill,
Trenton, and Princeton--

sent his men forward.

The Germans

were quickly outflanked
and outnumbered.

Baum urged his dragoons

to try to cut their way out
through the swarming militia.

Moments later he fell,
mortally wounded.

Meanwhile, in and around
the Loyalist redoubt,

old friends battled one another.

As the rebels were coming up,

I observed a man fire at me,
which I returned.

He loaded again as he came up
crying out,

"Peters, you damned Tory,
I have got you."

I saw that it was a rebel
captain, Jeremiah Post,

an old schoolfellow and playmate
and a cousin of my wife's.

He rushed on me
with his bayonet,

which entered just below
my left breast

but was turned by the bone.

Though his bayonet was
in my body,

I felt regret at being obliged
to destroy him.

Colonel John Peters,
Queen's Loyal Rangers.

All afternoon,
the battle went back and forth.

The Patriots eventually
prevailed.

Wounded and with his son
by his side,

John Peters led the survivors of
his regiment

back to Burgoyne's Army.

Few of Colonel Baum's men
escaped death, injury,

or capture.

Prisoners were packed into
the Bennington Meeting House,

many badly wounded.

They were in all stages
of suffering,

and some were dying.

Some of their fellow soldiers
who were less seriously wounded

would go to a dying comrade,

and, kneeling by his side,

would clasp their hands,
bow their heads,

and swaying their bodies
up and down,

would mutter prayers
in their own language.

And when death came to him,
they would pass to another.

At Bennington,

Burgoyne had lost
nearly 15% of his army,

and he had accomplished nothing.

Assurances about
the near universality

of Loyalist sentiments
were dead wrong.

The country now abounds

in the most active
and most rebellious race

of the continent, and hangs
like a gathering storm

upon my left.

Resolved that the flag
of the United States

be thirteen stripes,
alternate red and white,

that the union be thirteen
stars, white in a blue field,

representing a new
constellation.

During a short meeting

devoted
mostly to fiscal matters,

the Continental Congress
had called for a new flag

to represent their new country.

But two years later,

the committee of Congress
overseeing the Army

still regretted that there was
as yet no "national standard."

Some militia companies
and privateers

designed their own banners

and had their
wives and daughters make them.

Although artists often
included the Stars and Stripes

in their postwar
romantic renderings

of Revolutionary events,

it is not known ever
actually to have been flown

by the Continental Army
above a battlefield,

nor does anyone know
who made the first one.

We know the Indians
now to have

the highest notions of liberty
of any people on Earth--

a people who will never
consider consequences

when they think their liberty
likely to be invaded,

though it may end in their ruin.

George Croghan.

The Haudenosaunee
was a centuries-old union

comprised of the Six Nations--

Seneca, Cayuga, Onondaga,

Tuscarora, Oneida, and Mohawk.

Each was allowed to act
in its own interest,

but they were expected
to act together

in matters affecting them all.

They likened their confederacy
to a "great longhouse."

The Senecas were the keepers
of its western door,

the Mohawks--the eastern door.

At the center was Onondaga,

where representatives met
around the Great Council Fire.

Normally you hammer things
out until everybody says, "OK,

this is what we will do."

And that had endured, right?

Battered and bruised
and bombarded

through colonial wars
and all the rest of it.

That had endured.

And then the Revolution occurs.

For us, the Mohawk
people, it was survival. Period.

And you didn't know
which side was going to be

the best choice.

We kind of gravitated mostly
to the British because they

had kind of won our respect,
beating the French,

and pretty much having
our interests

when they dealt
with the regular colonists.

The disturbances
in America

give great trouble
to all our nations.

The Mohawks,
our particular nation,

have on all occasions shown
their zeal and loyalty

to the Great King.

Thayendanegea.

No Mohawk man
identified more closely

with the British
than Thayendanegea,

who was also known
as Joseph Brant.

His sister Molly had married

the British superintendent
of Indian affairs,

and her connections helped Brant
make his name among the English.

He had fought for the Crown in
the French and Indian War at 15,

attended
an English mission school,

and, in 1776,
traveled to London,

where he reaffirmed
his people's loyalty to Britain

in an audience
with King George III.

Many of the Indian people
in this time are

kind of anonymous to us
in some ways

because we don't have accurate
representations of them,

but one of the major
exceptions is Joseph Brant,

who had his portrait painted
not once but many, many times.

This is the 18th century.

Not just anybody
got their portrait painted.

To have your portrait painted
multiple times was unusual.

I think he
controlled his space.

"I confound your stereotypical
images of savage Indians."

Brant had fought
against the Patriots

at the Battle of Long Island,

then began traveling from town
to town within the Six Nations,

urging the young men
to join him.

It was imperative,
he told them, to "defend"

our "lands and liberty
against the rebels

"who, in a great measure,
began the rebellion

to be sole Masters
of the Continent."

But suspicious of the way
Brant seemed to move

between the Indian and British
worlds, more traditional leaders

resented this minor chief's
ambition to lead them into war,

and preferred to hold back
until it seemed clear

Britain was headed for victory.

And so, when Brant assembled
his armed Volunteers,

only a handful were
from the Six Nations.

Perhaps 80% of them
were Loyalist settlers

disguised as Indians.

In early August, Brant's men
were with British forces

as they initiated the second
part of Burgoyne's grand scheme

to seize the Hudson and cut off
the New England states.

They started by laying siege
to Fort Stanwix,

a Patriot outpost
far west on the Mohawk River,

a crucial meeting place
that connected the Great Lakes

with the East.

The British had believed

the fort was only thinly
defended and in disrepair.

Actually, it was held by
some 600 Continental soldiers,

and they had been
strengthening the fortifications

at the urging of some Oneidas,

who made their homes
in the valley

and did not share Joseph Brant's
enthusiasm for the Crown.

The American Revolution

was about to plunge
the once-united Six Nations

into a civil war of their own.

Many Oneidas
were closer to the Americans.

Some are intermarried.

Oneida people were,
in many cases,

surrounded
by American colonists.

When an 800-man
Patriot militia column

commanded by
General Nicholas Herkimer

reached Oriska,

an Oneida settlement
on Oriskany Creek

just eight miles from
the embattled Fort Stanwix,

sixty Oneida chiefs and warriors
joined them.

They were ready to fight
alongside their White neighbors

and help thwart
the British invasion.

Joseph Brant and his men
were waiting for them,

alongside hundreds of other
Mohawks, Senecas, and Loyalists.

On the morning of
August 6, 1777,

as Herkimer's long column
filed into a ravine

and began splashing
across a stream,

Loyalists fired from above,

while hundreds
of Native Americans

allied with the British ran down
among the startled men,

wielding tomahawks, clubs,
and scalping knives.

It was a slaughter.
It was horrific what happened.

And even the Native people
who survived the war said

they'd never experienced
anything like that.

Perhaps as many
as 400 Patriot militia lay dead,

including
some 30 of their Oneida allies.

Almost 100 of the British forces
had been killed or wounded,

65 of whom were Indians.

The Mohawks and Senecas
were accustomed to warfare

that yielded far fewer
casualties, and were stunned.

There, I have seen
the most dead bodies all over it

that I never did see,
and never will again.

I thought, at the time,

the bloodshed a stream running
down on the descending ground.

And yet some living crying
for help,

but have no mercy on
to be spared of them.

Chainbreaker.

We look back
on the Battle of Oriskany

as one of those points where the
Longhouse seemed to be burning--

the all-time
worst-case scenario,

where we're actually
killing each other in combat.

For what? For what?

For somebody else
can claim our land?

Fort Stanwix
continued to hold out.

British artillery proved
too light

to damage
the fort's reinforced walls.

Then word came
that General Benedict Arnold

and a large force of
Continentals

were on their way
to break the siege.

Britain's Native American allies
decided to go home.

They wanted time
to mourn their dead.

Without them,
the cause was lost.

The British withdrew
their remaining forces

and returned to Canada.

The other army
Burgoyne had once hoped

would meet him at Albany
would not be there.

Meanwhile, General
Horatio Gates, the new commander

of the Continental Army's
Northern Department,

was methodically
gathering his forces

near the village of
Saratoga to stop Burgoyne.

Philadelphia is
the asylum of the disaffected.

The very air is contagious.

The Quakers in general
are wolves in sheep's clothing.

And while
they shelter themselves

under the pretext
of contentious scruples,

they are the more dangerous.

Philip Schuyler.

Philadelphia
may have been the place

where the Patriots were trying
to form a national government,

but its citizens
were deeply divided.

I think one of
the really great examples

of the difficulties of any
kind of sort of neutral place

is what happens to the Quakers
over the course of the war.

The Quakers
are famously pacifist.

And that's not good enough
in Revolutionary America.

When the first anniversary

of American independence
was celebrated

in the city that July,

Patriots
had called upon homeowners

to place candles
in their windows

as a symbol of fidelity
to the cause.

Thomas and Sarah Fisher's home
on Second Street

remained dark that evening,

and suffered
fifteen broken windows.

The Fishers were Quakers and
therefore officially neutral.

Their faith, one believer
explained, held that

"setting up and putting down
of kings and governments

is God's peculiar prerogative."

Patriots routinely raided
their shops and warehouses

to supply the Continental Army.

But the Fishers were defiant:

they would not
accept Continental money

or pay any tax
that supported the war,

and they refused
to denounce King George III.

On August 23rd,
the Fishers rode out to Stenton,

Sarah's family's
country estate near Germantown.

On the road,

we heard the disagreeable news

that Washington's army
is to march that way.

We met numbers of wagons
and light horsemen,

and, on our getting to Stenton,

found General Washington's
bodyguard

had taken possession
of our house.

They behaved civil,
were very quiet.

And Washington appeared
extremely grave and thoughtful.

On August 24th,
Washington paraded his men

through the streets
of Philadelphia.

He hoped to persuade
its citizens

that his army would be able
to defend them.

Many in the crowd cheered;
others remained stone-faced.

Among the officers riding
alongside Washington that day

was a Frenchman,

Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch
Gilbert du Motier--

the Marquis de Lafayette.

Congress had just made him
a major general.

He was just nineteen years old.

The welfare of America is

intimately bound up
with the happiness of humanity.

She is going to become

the deserving and sure refuge
of virtue, of honesty,

of tolerance, of equality,
and of a tranquil liberty.

Lafayette comes
without a word of English

but just with a sense
that the American continent is

the continent on which he will
make his name,

on which he stakes his glory,

and with a willingness
to essentially do

anything that needs to be done

for the sake of
American independence.

Europe was momentarily at peace,

and Lafayette was just
one of many young officers--

from France, Bavaria, Prussia,
and Poland--

all eager to show
what they could do

on the battlefield
in the New World.

But Lafayette stood out.

He was so rich,
he bought the ship

in which he and a dozen
other would-be officers

had crossed the ocean.

The young man's
military experience was minimal,

but his father had been killed
by British artillery

when he was two.

"To injure England is
to serve my country," he said.

And he was determined
to become a real major general,

commanding
a division of his own.

de Rode:
To George Washington,

Lafayette was interesting.

He had personal money with him
that he could invest

to buy uniforms,
to buy supplies.

He had a very important
network at the French Court

because he was, himself,
from a very powerful family.

So, if he could advocate

for the cause of the American
Revolution in France,

it could create very important
support from Versailles.

Washington
liked him from the first,

but would not consider
giving him a command

until he had seen
how he fared in battle.

Until then, he said,
Lafayette was to join his staff,

to consider himself
part of his military family.

I feel in a most painful
situation between hope and fear.

There must be fighting
and very bloody battles, too,

I apprehend.

Why is man called humane
when he delights so much

in blood, slaughter,
and devastation?

Even those who are
styled civilized nations

think this little spot worth
contending for, even to blood.

Abigail Adams.

On August 25th, after
five miserable weeks at sea,

General Howe's 16,000-man army
finally began to disembark

near the mouth of
the Elk River in Maryland.

This is
in the middle of the summer.

It's broiling hot.

These men have been
on the ships for weeks.

The horses are dying
by the scores.

But they disembark at
the head of the Chesapeake Bay.

And now they're
looking for the Americans.

Almost every movement
of the war

in North America is
an act of enterprise,

clogged
with innumerable difficulties.

A knowledge of the country,

intersected,
as it everywhere is,

by woods,
mountains, waters, or morasses,

cannot be obtained
with any degree of precision.

General William Howe.

To block the enemy's
advance on Philadelphia,

George Washington
interposed his 14,000-man army

along Brandywine Creek,
some 30 miles west of the city.

The bulk of his force
guarded Chad's Ford,

prepared to face Howe's army
in the open.

Washington made sure his men
understood what was at stake.

If the enemy is overthrown,

the war is at an end.

One bold stroke

will free the land
from devastations and burnings.

If we behave like men,
this campaign will be our last.

General Howe,

now encamped near the village
of Kennet Square,

was eager
for a climactic battle, too.

He didn't think he could end
the rebellion at one blow,

but if he could destroy
Washington's army

and then seize Philadelphia,

he would surely make
that objective much easier.

His plan was to divide his army
and flank Washington's,

just as he had on Long Island
the previous summer.

A little less
than half his force,

commanded by
the German General Knyphausen,

was to move toward Chad's Ford

and keep Washington's army
pinned down there,

braced for an all-out attack.

Meanwhile, the rest of
General Howe's force,

led by General Cornwallis
and Howe himself,

would move north
as quietly as possible

to attack the right flank
of the rebel army.

That attack was to be the signal

for Knyphausen at Chad's Ford
to storm across the Brandywine.

If all went as planned,

General Howe would be able
to trap Washington's army

between the two forces.

Washington, again,
misreads the ground.

He has made tactical errors
earlier in the war

at the Battle of Long Island,

and he makes another one
at Brandywine.

He believes that there are
no fords up Brandywine Creek

that the British
can get across securely

to outflank the Americans.

That's not true. There are fords
up there. The British find them.

The British are well-informed.

There are a number of Loyalists
who are acting as guides;

they're providing
information about the terrain,

about the topography, about,
"Here on the map is where you

can get around
these American positions."

At daybreak
on September 11, 1777,

Generals Howe and Cornwallis
set out on what would be

a twisting seventeen-mile march
to get behind the Americans.

A dense morning fog
screened their movements.

General Knyphausen
and his column began moving east

soon after,

along the Great Post Road
toward Chad's Ford.

Forward elements
of the American Army

had felled trees
across the road.

Riflemen hidden in the woods
fired into the enemy's ranks.

American guns across the creek
lobbed shells among them.

But by midmorning,

Knyphausen's men had driven
the American advance troops

back across the Brandywine,

ready to storm across the creek
when the signal was given.

At his headquarters,
General Washington was unsure

what was happening.

And so, he settled in
for what he believed would be

an all-out frontal assault
across Chad's Ford,

just as Howe wanted him to.

Meanwhile,
Howe and Cornwallis' men

had waded across two
waist-deep fords far upstream

and marched for hours
in intense heat without a break.

The weary British and German
troops

halted on the bare slopes of
Osborne's Hill to rest.

They stayed there long enough
for Washington to finally learn

of the coming attack on his
flank and order three brigades

to leave their positions
along the river

and form a defensive line
at another hill

on which the Birmingham
Meeting House stood:

John Sullivan's men
from Maryland and Delaware,

William Alexander's from
Pennsylvania and New Jersey,

and Adam Stephen's Virginians--
some 3,000 soldiers.

At around 4:00 in the afternoon,

Howe ordered his much larger
force forward

in three
perfectly disciplined columns.

American marksmen fired
into them from an apple orchard.

American artillery
tore through their ranks.

The redcoats kept coming.

Sullivan's brigade
broke and ran,

but the others held firm.

There was a most infernal fire

of cannon and musketry,

the most incessant shouting.

"Incline to the right!"
"Incline to the left!"

"Halt!" "Fire!" "Charge!"

The balls plowing up the ground.

The trees crackling
over one's head.

The branches
riven by the artillery.

The leaves falling
as in autumn by the grapeshot.

A battle like Brandywine
saw suffering at every corner.

It was a hellscape
in so many different ways.

Cannonballs ripping through
the forest;

splinters killing men,

just taking off arms, legs.

The outnumbered
Americans were driven back

five times, and five times
managed to surge forward again

before they finally broke.

Had General Nathanael Greene
and his reinforcements

not raced some four miles
in less than forty-five minutes

to cover their retreat,
it might have become a rout.

Back at Chad's Ford,
the sound of the fighting

on Birmingham Hill
had been the signal

for General Knyphausen

to send his army streaming
across the Brandywine.

The remaining Patriots
could not hold.

Washington ordered a retreat.

Night fell.

General Howe lamented
that if he had more time,

he could have brought about the
rebel army's "total overthrow."

The Americans, only by
the grace of darkness, get away.

The British can't chase them
any further in the dark.

It's a serious defeat
for the Americans.

It is going to open
the gateway toward Philadelphia.

We experienced
another drubbing.

But we did, I think,
as well as could be expected.

I saw not a despairing look,

nor did I hear
a despairing word.

We had our solacing words
always ready for each other:

"Come, boys, we shall do
better another time."

Such was the spirit
of the times.

Captain Enoch Anderson.

The spirit of
the times was not universal,

as Washington's beaten army
stumbled through the dark.

Hundreds of men melted away
into the countryside

and headed home,

making an accurate count of
casualties impossible.

But more than 1,000 Americans

are thought to have been killed,
wounded, or taken captive

during the Battle of Brandywine,

roughly twice as many casualties
as the British had suffered.

Our Americans,

after holding firm
for considerable time,

were finally routed.

While I was trying
to rally them,

the English honored me
with a musket shot,

which wounded me slightly
in the leg.

But the wound is nothing.

The ball hit neither bone
nor nerve,

and all I have to do for it is
to lie on my back for a while.

Marquis de Lafayette.

I needed all my courage
and tenderness

to keep my resolution
of following my husband.

Besides the perils of the sea,
I was told that we

would be exposed to be eaten
by the savages,

and that people in America lived
upon horse flesh and cats.

Baroness Friederike Riedesel.

When German General
Friedrich Adolph Riedesel

left Europe in 1776

to join General Burgoyne's
northern campaign,

he had left his pregnant wife
and two small daughters at home.

But as soon as she could, after
her third daughter was born,

Baroness Riedesel crossed the
Atlantic with all three girls.

In mid-August, she caught up
with her husband

and Burgoyne's army
at Fort Edward.

In the beginning,
all went well.

We cherished the sweet hope of
a sure victory

and of coming into
the promised land.

And when on the passage across
the Hudson,

General Burgoyne exclaimed,
"The English never lose ground,"

our spirits were
greatly exhilarated.

On September 13, 1777,

two days
after Washington's defeat

at the Battle of the Brandywine,

General Burgoyne's army
in New York

began streaming
across the Hudson near Saratoga

on a bridge of boats
covered with planks.

Officers and men, women,
children, horses, cattle,

wagons, field-pieces--

it took three days
for it all to cross.

Waiting for them some 10 miles
south of Saratoga were

General Horatio Gates'
6,900 Continentals

and 1,300 militia,

dug in along Bemis Heights,
a broad plateau

anchored on the right
by the Hudson River

and sheltered on the left
by craggy wooded bluffs.

Colonel Tadeusz Kosciuszko,

a Polish volunteer
for the Americans,

had chosen the site and laid out
brigade encampments,

breastworks,
and artillery emplacements

all along the Heights
for 3/4 of a mile.

Patriot cannon commanded
the river road to Albany.

Officers had a clear view of
the rough terrain

across which the British
would have to march--

deep ravines and dense woods,

broken here and there by
half-cleared farmers' fields.

Most of Burgoyne's Native scouts
had left him by now,

so while he knew the Americans
were somewhere ahead of him,

he had no way of knowing
how many they were

or precisely
how they were positioned.

On September 19th,
he resolved to find out

and then try to drive through
the rebel lines.

He divided his force
into three columns.

Scottish General Simon Fraser,
with nearly 3,000 troops,

set out to pinpoint
his enemy's flank,

hoping to locate high ground

from which to fire
on the rebels.

2,200 soldiers
under German General Riedesel

approached along the river road.

Burgoyne himself
led the middle column--

some 1,700 soldiers--to assault

what he guessed was the center
of the American lines.

Watching from Bemis Heights,

General Gates was
content to wait.

This was his first
battlefield command,

and he was
a careful, cautious man.

Both Fraser's and Riedesel's
columns stalled,

but Burgoyne's men managed
to make it through the forest

to a clearing named
Freeman's Farm,

where General Benedict Arnold
and Daniel Morgan's riflemen

went out to engage them.

General Burgoyne
asks for reinforcements.

Riedesel,
who's a very fine commander,

immediately sends some
reinforcements up from the river

to hit the Americans
in the American right flank.

And this successfully
stops the American momentum.

This First Battle of Saratoga,
the Battle of Freeman Farm,

it's a draw, basically.

You can say that the British
have been successful

in that they have held
onto the ground,

but for the most part,
it's inconclusive.

Burgoyne had not
located the main rebel positions

on Bemis Heights,
and had lost 591 men,

nearly twice as many
as the Patriots had lost,

and, unlike General Gates,

Burgoyne had no realistic
prospect of replacing them.

I was an eyewitness

of the whole affair

and shivered at every shot,
for I could hear everything.

I saw a great number of wounded.

And what was still
more harrowing,

they even brought three of them
into the house where I was.

Imagine
what a battlefield looks like

after a battle.

It has a lot of bodies.
It has a lot of blood and gore.

And it was the job of women

to go in
and take care of those bodies,

to clean them up,
to identify them, if they could,

to see over
the burial of bodies.

Part of the work of war
is dealing with death.

Although we
repulsed them with loss,

we ourselves were much weakened.

The bodies of the slain

were scarcely covered
with the clay.

And the only tribute of
respect to fallen officers

was to bury them by themselves,

without throwing them
in the common grave.

So destruction comes
with rapid wings,

and ruin rushes on
like a whirlwind

to sweep the best officers,

and sometimes
almost entire battalions,

from their
strongest foundations.

Roger Lamb.

Harassed and exhausted

by perpetual change
from bad to worse,

my poor afflicted mother

consented to go beyond
the mountains to Winchester.

It was indeed
a new world to us--

rude and wild as nature
had made it.

Betsy Ambler.

Betsy Ambler and her
family from Yorktown, Virginia,

had been on the move
since the war began,

trying to find a place

that suited her mother's
frail health

and was safe from the British.

For decades,
Winchester, Virginia,

in the Shenandoah Valley,

had been an important waystation

on the Great Wagon Road

that settlers followed

through the backcountry

from Philadelphia

to the Carolinas.

Because it was so far inland,
Winchester served new purposes:

it was
a relatively safe place

for storing military supplies
and materiel;

a safe haven for refugees;

and a place
to house prisoners of war.

Suspected Loyalists were
often exiled to Winchester, too.

We not unfrequently
made acquaintance

with agreeable men
who were condemned to banishment

in this dreary place
on account of "disaffection,"

as it was called,
to the great cause of liberty.

Amongst those proscribed,

genteel Quakers from
Philadelphia were numerous.

One of those Quakers was

Sarah Fisher's husband Thomas.

As British troops advanced
on Philadelphia,

Congress and the local
authorities

had convinced themselves that he
and seven other wealthy Quakers

were communicating
with the enemy.

They had them arrested,

and when they again
refused to swear allegiance

to the new government,
loaded them into wagons

and sent them off
under guard to Winchester.

Now alone in Philadelphia,
Sarah Fisher had two small boys

to care for and was
nearly eight months' pregnant.

I feel forlorn and desolate,

and the world appears
like a dreary desert,

almost without any visible
protecting hand

to guard us from
the ravenous wolves and lions

that prowl about for prey,

seeking to devour
those harmless innocents

that don't go hand-in-hand
with them

in their cruelty and rapine.

Her husband's
only crime, Sarah Fisher said,

was that he saw himself
as a subject of Britain.

But she was cheered to see that
rebels and their sympathizers,

including all the members
of the Continental Congress,

were now fleeing the city

in fear of the enemy's approach

after the American defeat
at Brandywine.

People in very great confusion,

some flying one way
and some another,

as if not knowing where to go
or what to do.

Wagons rattling,
horses galloping, women running,

children crying,
delegates flying,

and altogether
the greatest consternation,

fright, and terror that
can be imagined.

George Washington
still hoped somehow

to keep the British
from occupying Philadelphia.

He ordered General Anthony Wayne
and his Pennsylvania division

to attack the rear
of the advancing army.

But local Loyalists alerted
General Howe

that Wayne and his men were
camped near the Paoli Tavern,

and he sent 1,700 soldiers

to deal with them.

As they approached
through the woods

on the night of September 20th,

they were ordered to remove
the flints from their muskets

for fear someone's gun
would go off

and alert the sleeping rebels.

They fixed bayonets
and exploded out of the trees

with what a British officer
remembered:

"such a cheer
as made the wood echo."

The light infantry bayoneted

every man they came up with.

And the cries of
the wounded formed altogether

one of the most dreadful scenes
I ever beheld.

Every man that fired
was instantly put to death.

Lieutenant Martin Hunter.

At least 53 Patriots
were stabbed to death,

and more than 200
were wounded or captured.

Americans would remember it
as the Paoli Massacre.

Washington gave up hope
of holding Philadelphia.

Six days after the massacre,
September 26, 1777,

General Cornwallis led 3,000
victorious British troops

into Philadelphia.

About 10 o'clock,

the troops began to enter.

A band of music played a tune,

which I afterwards understood
was called

"God save
Great George Our King."

Then followed the soldiers,
no wanton levity,

or indecent mirth,

but a gravity well becoming
the occasion on all their faces.

Sarah Fisher.

General Howe,

with 8,000 more troops camped
in Germantown,

made his headquarters
at Stenton,

Sarah Fisher's country home

that had only a few weeks
before been occupied

by George Washington.

At Brandywine, General Howe
had repeated the tactics

that had won
the Battle of Long Island.

Now Washington hoped to repeat
his successful surprise attack

on Trenton by hitting Howe at
Germantown in early October.

Washington's plan
was ambitious and complicated.

Success would depend on
dividing his 11,000-man force

into four separate columns

to undertake miles-long marches
at night

on poorly marked roads
so as to arrive simultaneously

on the town's
northern and western edges

at precisely 5 A.M.
on October 4th.

Then, at dawn, they were
to storm into town

on four different roads.

It would be the first time

during the Revolution that

Washington dared hurl his army

against the main British force.

John Sullivan's
and Anthony Wayne's columns

swiftly swept aside British
pickets north of the town.

Wayne's men found themselves

face-to-face
with the British Light Infantry,

the same soldiers
who had massacred

so many of their comrades
at Paoli just two weeks earlier.

Our people
pushed on with their bayonets

and took ample vengeance
for that night's work.

The rage and fury
of the soldiers

were not to be restrained.

The Americans continued

to push the British back
through the town,

driving them from one fenced
yard to the next.

Fortune smiled on our arms.

The enemy were broke, dispersed,
and flying in all quarters.

We were in possession of their
whole encampment.

In the face
of the advancing Americans,

British Lieutenant Colonel
Thomas Musgrave

ordered half his regiment--
between 100 and 120 soldiers--

to duck inside the largest house
in Germantown,

the home of Benjamin Chew,

the Loyalist ex-chief justice
of Pennsylvania.

Its walls were two feet thick.

Musgrave directed his men
to block the door

and ground-floor windows
with furniture.

Downstairs, his men
were to bayonet anyone

who dared try to enter

while others fired
into the passing rebels

from the upstairs windows.

Washington
is advised, "Bypass them.

Go around them. Isolate them.
Keep the momentum going."

But Henry Knox insisted

that the house had to be taken
right away.

"It would be unmilitary,"
he said,

"to leave a castle in our rear."

Washington agreed.

Artillery blew in the front door

and damaged statuary
in the garden,

but bounced harmlessly
off the walls.

Continentals from New Jersey
repeatedly stormed the house

and were cut down
on the lawn and front steps.

As the siege at the Chew House
went on,

the bulk of the American force
streamed past,

continuing to drive
the British back.

A Patriot victory seemed likely.

About this time came on
perhaps the thickest fog

known in the memory of man,

which, together with the smoke,

brought on
almost midnight darkness.

It was not possible to
distinguish friend from foe

at five yards distance.

When the men
who had penetrated the farthest

heard the furious gunfire still
coming from the Chew House,

they believed the enemy
had somehow gotten behind them.

Now it was the Patriots
who began to fall back.

General Cornwallis himself
led the counterattack.

His troops freed Musgrave's men
from the Chew House

and drove the Americans back
along the roads

they'd followed into town.

The British had won... again.

I rode over the battlefield,

and with surprise and admiration
approached the house,

which the brave Colonel Musgrave
had defended.

During the battle,
some thirty defenders

were killed and wounded.

I counted
seventy-five dead Americans.

The rooms of the house
were riddled by cannonball

and looked like a slaughterhouse

because of the blood
splattered around.

There, the entire English army
was saved.

Johann Ewald.

For the Americans,
what had been a sure victory--

it looked like they were going
to drive the British

back into Philadelphia--becomes
a fairly significant defeat.

Washington gets away again,

but there are
hundreds of casualties.

The British capture
quite a few Americans.

And what had been
a glorious morning

turns into a very grim evening.

Reporting to Congress,

Washington tried to put
the best face he could

on his humiliating defeat.

Upon the whole,
it may be said

the day was rather unfortunate
than injurious.

We sustained no material
loss of men

and brought off all our
artillery, except one piece.

The enemy are nothing
the better by the event.

And our troops, who are not
in the least dispirited by it,

have gained what all young
troops gain by being in actions.

He is very good at, I think,

the key tactic
for an insurrectionary force,

which is living
to fight another day,

and successfully plays
a long game

of just not being crushed.

Washington's not
a great field commander,

but he's resilient,

and he understands
the kind of war he's fighting.

At some point,
he reaches the insight--

and it's a basic insight--
he doesn't have to win.

The British have to win.

He only has not to lose.

The colonies
had grown up

under constitutions of
government so different,

there was so great
a variety of religions,

they were composed of
so many different nations,

their customs, manners,
and habits

had so little resemblance,

their intercourse had been
so rare,

and their knowledge
of each other so imperfect

that to unite them in the same
principles of theory

and the same system of action,

was certainly
a very difficult enterprise.

John Adams.

After fleeing Philadelphia,

the Continental Congress
reconvened

in a small county courthouse
in York, Pennsylvania.

The delegates had taken

just 27 days of discussion
the previous year

to declare
American independence,

but it would take them 526 days

to fashion
the Articles of Confederation.

They were meant in part
to demonstrate to France

that the thirteen
former colonies

could act effectively together,

but the result was not
a government.

They needed to have
a way to pay for wars;

they needed to run wars.

They needed to possess
Native lands;

they needed to redistribute
those lands.

But the Articles had so much
political compromise

that it wasn't a functional
centralized government.

By design,

the Articles of Confederation
were weak and constrained.

Each state remained

a more or less
independent republic

jealously guarding

its own sovereignty and freedom.

Congress had no power to tax,
which meant

it couldn't pay the soldiers
in the Continental Army.

And before the Articles
could even become operative,

they needed to be ratified

by all the states.

That would take
another 39 months.

The armies were so near

that not a night passed
without firing.

No foraging party could be made

without great detachments
to cover it.

I do not believe
either officer or soldier

ever slept during that interval.

General John Burgoyne.

For eighteen days

after the Battle of
Freeman's Farm near Saratoga,

the American and British armies
strengthened their defenses

and skirmished constantly

but remained precisely

where they had been
when the shooting stopped.

Meanwhile, Loyalist refugees

continued to stream
into the British camp,

forcing Burgoyne
to reduce rations by a third.

Desertions, especially among
German troops, rose so fast

that Baron Riedesel promised
his soldiers ten guineas

for every would-be deserter
they brought back

and five guineas if he had to be
shot for resisting.

At 11:00 in the morning
on October 7th,

Burgoyne led some 1,500 men
out of his camp

and formed a long, thin line

across two unharvested
wheat fields

just west of Freeman's Farm,

redcoats on the right,
Germans in the center,

elite British grenadiers
on the left.

While some of his men
harvested the wheat

his encampment
desperately needed,

Burgoyne and several
of his officers

climbed onto the roof of
a log cabin with spyglasses,

trying to see if there was a way
around the rebel left.

Tall trees blocked them
from seeing anything useful,

but Americans patrolling
the no man's land saw them.

Shots were exchanged.

From Bemis Heights,

General Gates now ordered
Daniel Morgan's corps

and Brigadier General
Enoch Poor's brigades

to attack the British
on both flanks.

British General Fraser
was killed.

The redcoats crumbled.

Then Benedict Arnold
galloped onto the battlefield.

He seemed to be everywhere,

leading a charge
against the British center,

racing between the armies

through a swarm of musket balls
to rally another regiment

so that they could sweep
the defenders

from two fortified cabins.

He urged the exhausted men on

to seize a redoubt manned
by some 200 German grenadiers.

You cannot conceive
how men looked.

And at first it appeared to me

that if the order came for us
to march, I could not do it.

Nathaniel Bacheller.

But when Arnold gave the order,

Bacheller and his comrades
climbed to their feet

and moved forward again,

shouting as they rushed toward
the front of the redoubt.

Arnold rode around it,
forced his way inside,

and demanded that
its defenders surrender.

Most did surrender or fled,

but one fired a musket ball that
shattered Arnold's left leg,

the same leg that had been
wounded at Quebec

two years before, and killed his
horse, which fell on him.

Unable to move, Arnold
continued to shout orders

until the fighting died down

and he could be carried
from the field.

"Arnold was
our fighting general,"

one of his men remembered.

"He was as brave a man
as ever lived."

I think it's safe to say

that Benedict Arnold
should be regarded

as the hero of Saratoga.

It was really an aggressive
move at the end

that sealed the victory
for the Americans.

The British stumbled
back to Saratoga,

carrying their wounded
with them.

October 10th--Saratoga.

A frightful cannonade began,

principally directed
against the house

in which we had sought shelter,

probably because
the enemy believed

that all the generals made it
their headquarters.

Alas! It harbored none
but wounded soldiers or women.

We were finally obliged
to take refuge in a cellar.

My children laid down
on the earth

with their heads upon my lap.

My own anguish prevented me
from closing my eyes.

Eleven cannonballs
went through the house,

and we could plainly hear them
rolling over our heads.

One poor soldier, whose leg
they were about to amputate,

had the other leg taken off
by another cannonball

in the very middle
of the operation.

Militiamen continued
to stream into Gates' army,

its numbers
now swollen to 17,000.

By October 13th, the Americans

had Burgoyne's army
completely surrounded.

Every hour,

the position of the army
grew more critical

and the prospect of salvation
grew less and less.

Even for the wounded,
no spot could be found

which could afford them
a safe shelter.

The sick and wounded
would drag themselves along

into a quiet corner in
the woods, and lie down to die.

General Riedesel.

Saratoga was a body blow
to the British.

It was clear that all of
the old assumptions,

that the British Army was
a professional force

that would sooner or later

prevail over
the amateurish Americans,

all those assumptions
were undermined.

The amateurish Americans
had actually beaten the British.

For the British, this was not
just a military defeat;

it was a psychological blow

of very considerable
proportions.

That afternoon,
Burgoyne gathered his staff.

They were trapped,
without food or forage.

They voted to begin negotiations
with General Gates.

For three days, messages
flew back and forth

between the camps.

During the time
of the cessation

of arms, a soldier
in the 9th Regiment

named Maguire came down
to the bank of the river

with a number
of his companions, who engaged

in conversation
with a party of Americans

on the opposite shore.

Maguire suddenly darted
like lightning

from his companions,
and resolutely plunged

into the stream.

At the very same moment,
one of the American soldiers,

seized with a similar impulse,
resolutely dashed

into the water
from the opposite shore.

The wondering soldiers
on both sides beheld them

eagerly swim towards the middle
of the river, where they met.

They hung on each other's necks
and wept.

They were brothers.

One was in the British
and the other

in the American service,
totally ignorant

until that hour
that they were engaged

in hostile combat
against each other's life.

Roger Lamb.

On the morning
of October 17th,

Gates' generous terms
were accepted.

He and Burgoyne met between
their respective lines

and shook hands.

Burgoyne presented
his sword to Gates--

who handed it back,
as dictated by military custom.

To his dying day,
Burgoyne would blame others

for his defeat--
Lord Germain, General Howe,

his Loyalist German
and Native allies--

everyone but himself.

All the army gave up

and surrendered themselves
prisoners of war to our men.

Such a thing was
never heard of.

Such a sight was
never seen before,

so many men
giving in to us.

Exult, oh, Americans

and rejoice
and praise the Lord,

who hath done
wonderful things for you.

Ezra Tilden.

An entire British army
had been forced

to lay down its arms--
one lieutenant general,

two major generals,
three brigadiers,

350 commissioned
and staffed officers,

5,900 other ranks,

and some 600 women
and children.

Along with them, the Americans
seized 30 artillery pieces,

60 wagons, 1,500 swords,

3,400 bayonets,

and 4,600 muskets
and rifles.

Burgoyne's Canadian
and Loyalist auxiliaries

were to be permitted to make
their way north to Canada,

while more than 6,000 British
and German prisoners

were to be marched to Boston
and sent home from there

to Europe,
pledged never to return.

But when they got there,
they learned that Congress

had refused to ratify
Gates' agreement with Burgoyne.

After months housed
in makeshift camps,

they were sent south.

I never had the least idea

that the creation produced such
a sordid set of creatures

in human figure--
poor, dirty, emaciated men,

great numbers of women,
who seemed to be the beasts

of burden, and children,
some very young infants

who were born on the road.

Hannah Winthrop.

The prisoners
would eventually be marched

more than 600 miles
to Charlottesville, Virginia,

and still later
to other camps in Virginia,

Maryland, and Pennsylvania.

Many died.

Hundreds escaped.

Some would rejoin
the British army at New York;

others joined
the Continental Army

or simply disappeared
into the populace.

By the time the remaining
prisoners from Saratoga

were released in 1783,

only a few of the 6,000
would be left.

Everything is almost gone

of the vegetable kind, butchers
obliged to kill fine milk cows.

One woman walked two miles
out of town only for an egg.

Such is the dreadful situation
we are reduced to.

Sarah Fisher.

At first,
Philadelphia Loyalists

had welcomed British troops
into their city.

But as it grew colder
that autumn, homeowners

would be forced to take
officers into their homes,

whether they wanted to or not
and, as Sarah Fisher wrote,

there were soon
"very bad accounts

"of the licentiousness
of the English officers

deluding young girls."

Sarah Fisher felt especially
isolated and alone,

but she soon gave birth
to a baby daughter,

whom she named Hannah,
after her late mother.

American patrols
made foraging

in the surrounding countryside
dangerous for British troops.

Provisions grew
increasingly scarce.

Prices soared.

General Howe had to find
a way for the Royal Navy

to ferry food, supplies,
and equipment

up the Delaware River
to Philadelphia.

American forces occupied

two forts--Fort Mifflin

on Mud Island, and Fort Mercer

at Red Bank
on the New Jersey side.

For weeks, the British
worked to destroy them.

The besieged Americans,
Thomas Paine wrote,

had nothing "to cover them
but their bravery."

Joseph Plumb Martin had been
among the last Americans

to evacuate Fort Mifflin.

Every private soldier
in an army

thinks his particular services
as essential to carry on the war

he's engaged in, as the services
of the most influential general.

And why not?

What could officers do
without such men?

Nothing at all.

Great men get great praise,
little men nothing.

Both forts fell.

The Delaware was now open
to British shipping.

Howe's army could safely spend
the winter in Philadelphia.

In December, George Washington
would lead his army

into winter quarters,
a hilly, wooded, remote place

northwest of Philadelphia
called Valley Forge.

In France, Benjamin Franklin
had heard little of what

was happening in America
for seven long weeks.

Then, on December 4th,

a rider clattered
into his courtyard,

shouting he had
important news.

Franklin hurried out
to greet him.

"Sir," he asked,
"is Philadelphia taken?"

"Yes, sir,"
the courier answered.

Franklin, dejected,
turned to go back inside.

"But, Sir," the rider said.

"I have greater news
than that.

"General Burgoyne
and his whole army

are prisoners of war."

Just a few months earlier,
Franklin had written

that only "a small matter"
would be needed

to bring France
into the war with Britain.

Clearly, the surrender
of an entire British army

was a large matter.

The Comte de Vergennes,
the French Foreign Minister,

whose newly rebuilt navy
was now ready for war,

saw the victory at Saratoga
and the former colonies'

tentative steps toward forming
a central government

as the best evidence so far
that a French-American alliance

might defeat the British.

Louis XVI agreed.

"America is triumphant,"
he said,

"and England beaten."

Alan Taylor: Burgoyne's
surrender at Saratoga

is a crushing blow,
and it impresses the French.

But the French
are also impressed

by George Washington's
survival.

He's still hanging in there.

His army is still fighting.

The British may force their way
into Philadelphia,

but they have not destroyed
Washington's army.

de Rode: It's quite a risk
to send your army to fight

with an army
that might never win.

But there's more to the story,
because the French

are not just waiting
for the victory.

They're waiting for their
own army to be ready.

Finally, their navy was ready,
their army was ready.

They were strong enough again
and felt confident

that this was the right moment
to join the rebels.

In Paris,
on February 6, 1778,

French and American
commissioners

would sign two treaties.

The first recognized
the independence

of the United States
of America and established

commercial relations
between the two countries.

The second,
the Treaty of Alliance,

promised full support
for the American cause

from the French Army and Navy,

as well as its Treasury.

The importance
of the French alliance,

just in entirely
practical terms,

we're talking about
what would today be

$25 billion
to $30 billion in aid.

We're talking about a war effort

that the colonies could not have
provided for themselves.

And the idea that a foreign
power bankrolled that effort

and that it would have
impossible without them,

that's the chapter we don't
like to think too much about

because our sense of
our independence is that it's

something that we
achieved on our own.

Although it would be
nearly three months

before the news crossed
the Atlantic,

an uprising among British
subjects in North America

was about to ignite
another global war.