Posted by Mike Slease on October 15, 2000 at 05:48:59:
In Reply to: The March on the Delaware Indian Village of Kittanning ... Part VIII posted by Mike Slease on October 13, 2000 at 02:26:36:
The Journal of Lt. Col. John Armstrong
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The March on the Delaware Indian Village of Kittanning
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August ye 31st to September ye 10th, 2000
The Kittanning Expedition 2000--Day 9, Part 1
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Written by
Mike Slease, aka, Lt. Col. John Armstrong
Saturday, September ye 9th
We arose at about 6:30 AM to another nice day. The sun was coming up to a clear sky, but it was quite pleasant. After breakfast we broke camp and headed out toward Kittanning, 24 miles distant. We will transport today because of the dangerous highway between these two points, and because of a very important stop along the way we had to make. There is no parallel route nor is there time enough to follow an alternate route. We would need at least two more days, and we just do not have them.
This was the beginning of a very special day for me. I was soon to be in my home territory, and from here on out, the terrain is as familiar as the back of my hand, there are homes and landmarks that conjured up memories that have been stored away in my head for 40 years or more.
We passed through the village of Shelocta, and past the restaurant that is owned by one of my old high school band friends, Sandy Kaye Perry (Smith). I wish we could stop, but we are now on a tight schedule. Up the highway a couple of miles is the home of one of my favorite teachers, Herman Rupert, 10th grade Biology and Driver's Education. Next is the little town of Elderton, and my high school. We lived here, Mother, Dad, my sister and I until Dad went off to WWII. The familiar road passed under us as I told my traveling companion, Pvt. Jim Polewchak, about every inch, it seemed, of the route. Through the village of Whitesburg and then we turned off the highway and onto a dirt road and followed it until we came to an area known as Blanket Hill. There we pulled off and indicated to the men which of the several hills was the actual site of Armstrong's depository the night before the raid.
At about nine or ten o'clock on the night of September 7th, 1756, the army of 307 men arrived here. It is five miles to Kittanning; Armstrong thought about six miles. This is when they encountered their first Indians. A few rods in advance, a guide, or scout, discovered a fire with 3 or 4 men sitting around it.
Armstrong, in his report, says, "Whereupon, with all possible silence, I order'd the Rear to Retreat about one Hundred Perches in Order to make Way for the Front that We might consult how we could best proceed without being discover'd by the Enemy." When the guide reported again that he could only see three or four Indians in the party, someone proposed to fall upon them and kill them without further ado; but the risk of alarm was too great. On the other hand the Expedition could not afford to wait until the Indians went to sleep. Lieutenant James Hogg, of Captain George Armstrong's company, was left with twelve men and the guide, with instructions to attack the Indians at daybreak. The troops left their horses, "with what Blankets and other Baggage we then had," at this place, known to this day as Blanket Hill, and leaving the road in order to get past the Indians, made their silent and difficult way through the woods toward the town.
The actual attack and battle will be explained in tomorrow's Journal, however, it is prudent and necessary now to say that several of the white captives who escaped to Armstrong stated that two batteaux of French soldiers were due to arrive in Kittanning this very day from Ft. Duquesne, intending to go with Captain Jacobs to attack Ft. Shirley the following day, and that 24 Indians had left the night before from the town. It then occurred to some of the troops that this party of 3 or 4 was, indeed, the advance party of 24, and Lt. Hogg and his detail were in grave danger. Had the troops known, as they prepared to retreat, that a French party had already arrived at Kittanning, they might have been even more alarmed.
In the meantime, Lt. Hogg prepared to carry out his orders. As the affair was reported to Armstrong, when Hogg attacked that morning, he had found, not "Three of four Indians" but "a Number considerably Superior to his"; and although three Indians were thought to be mortally wounded, the hour's engagement ended with Hogg twice wounded and three of his twelve men dead.
Lt. Hogg was badly wounded and hid himself in a thicket. Here he was discovered by a sergeant and a few others of Captain Mercer's men who had withdrawn early from the battle, perhaps when their captain was wounded. These men put Hogg on a horse, and carried him with them in their retreat; but upon meeting four Indians this party scattered, leaving the wounded officer to his own devices. Wounded again in this encounter, Hogg "died in a few hours" after riding some distance.
Most of the horses and all of the blankets and provisions left on the hill the night before were captured by the Indians after having been left by the army. To this day, this hill is known as Blanket Hill. This hill is not easily accessible by the road, and is on private property, so we stopped at a place where we could see the hill easily from a few hundred yards away.
After putting on our battle gear, we marched up the slope and stood facing the hill. We stood in silence for a few moments, then I told the men what happened here so long ago, pointing out the hill before us. We then drank a toast to these brave souls, all 307 of Armstrong's army, and to the Indians who died in the attacks. We had discussed an appropriate beverage for this occasion the evening before, and after considering rum, whiskey, wine and a couple other things, we settled on something we are sure they all had: coffee.
The coffee was poured from my canteen into a silver cup and each of us, in turn, made his toast and then sipped from the silver cup before passing it to the next man until it came to the end of the line. Pvt. Kirwin, at the end of the line toasted Lt. Hogg and the others who died here and perhaps remained there, unburied, and then he poured the rest of the coffee in the cup onto the ground, saying, "This is for you. Drink with us."
I then called Pvt. Kirwin front and center, and ordered "Mourn Arms!" He performed this maneuver flawlessly. We said a silent prayer, and returned to the edge of the road where we then took pictures of the group with Blanket Hill in the background. Our simple Ceremony of Remembrance was deeply emotional for us all.
Before we left for the final leg of our trek, we placed a relic of our own on the hillside...a relic of Kittanning Trek 2000...for posterity. Pvt. Hebrank had the dubious honor of burying his worn out hiking boots which he had thrown away in a trash barrel in Indiana last night, and I found them and brought them here just for this occasion! We had one more stop along busy US Route 422; to view the roadside markers telling about Blanket Hill, which are some distance from the actual site, but do tell the story. After photographing them, we headed west toward the town.