Bunker Hill and the British in Boston

After the outbreak of fighting in April 1775 at Lexington and Concord, and the subsequent capture of Fort Ticonderoga by colonial militia, British Gen. Thomas Gage had problems. He’d botched the raids to seize colonial gunpowder, and everything had blown up in his face. Blood had been spilled, and all 13 colonies quickly shifted to a war footing — against their own government.

Worse, Gage’s troops were now cooped up on the peninsula that was Boston, encircled by at least 16,000 colonial militiamen who had responded in April and refused to go home. They were watching him, waiting for the slightest provocation to strike again. He had few options.

What’s more, Gage was informed that his replacement, William Howe, was already en route from London. Gage did what he could, including a full reconnoiter of the surrounding lands and waters, trying to assess the strengths and weaknesses of the militiamen’s positions. He devised a plan, his outgoing service to his country, and shared it with Howe when he arrived.

The two agreed that the greatest danger to their position in Boston was the potential for the militia to obtain heavy cannon and place them on the nearest high ground, which would force the regular British troops to abandon the city or be pulverized. The high ground in question was Bunker Hill/Breed’s Hill, just across the water in Charlestown. Gage and Howe planned to move on the hill with the greatest urgency and take it before the Americans procured artillery.

They did just that. But of course, there is much, much more to the story.

The colonials got wind of the British plans (there were many spies in the occupied city), and quickly moved to fortify the hill. The part of this two-headed hill that is closer to the center of Boston is called Breed’s Hill, so that is where most of the hastily-built redoubts were placed and where most of the fighting would be.

Seeing the colonial movements, on June 17, 1775, Howe launched the attack quickly.

This haste may have contributed to a clumsy battle plan that would result in many unnecessary casualties.

It started well enough, with the Navy bombarding Charlestown, at the base of the hill, so flames and smoke would screen their movements. Howe then ferried thousands of troops across the Charles River. They made landfall and began marching straight up the hill from the east and northeast.

Though the colonials were indeed so short of ammunition that the legendary order “Don’t shoot ’til you see the whites of their eyes” might have made sense, their officers feared this would be too confusing in the smoke and chaos of battle. So they jumped over the battlements and ran down the hill with white stakes, placing them at a short range where colonial muskets would be most effective. Each man had just a few rounds, and they had to make each shot count. Then the supporting order was passed along: Don’t shoot ’til they reach those white stakes.

The regulars, with their redoubtable discipline and bravery, marched side-by-side inexorably up that hill — many of them to their doom. For when they reached those stakes, a sudden, terrifying volley from the colonials dropped perhaps a third of all the regulars in the front ranks. The march faltered, and after a second volley, the regulars retreated.

The battle had just begun, however. A second assault was ordered, in the same manner and meeting the same fate as the first. But on the third try, the regulars sensed the volleys they faced were dwindling. After just a half-dozen shots, many of the colonials were out of ammunition.

And that’s when it really got ugly.

The regulars rallied and made it up and over the colonial defenses. Hand-to-hand fighting with bayonets began, and in this the British regulars had few equals. Now it was just a matter of time before they achieved their tactical victory and took the hill.

So, why is this battle considered such a glorious moment for the colonials? The answer lies in their bravery in the face of near-certain death, as well as in the final casualty figures.

The regulars suffered over 1,000 casualties, against about 450 for the colonials. This would prove, even after the following eight years of war, to be the worst loss for the British in any battle in America. Coming as it did in just the second major engagement — and with a loss ratio similar to the first — it put the British government on notice that subduing this rebellion would require a serious commitment in lives and resources.

Though it was a tactical defeat for the colonials (and worse, among the dead was the Bostonian rebellion’s most capable leader, Joseph Warren), the pain inflicted on the British regulars was a boost to colonial confidence. And though almost no one was openly demanding independence at this point, the political and psychological effects of the legend of Bunker Hill would put that goal squarely in view.

Jonathan Bill taught history in Peninsula schools for 32 years. Recently retired, he still lives on the Key Peninsula. This column concludes his three-part series marking the 250th anniversary of the start of the American Revolution.