August 16, 1812—Just how much of a difference a
commander can make—and how much a particular engagement can make or break his
reputation—can be seen most dramatically in the surrender of American forces at the lonely frontier outpost of Detroit. Their commander, General William Hull (shown here, in a portrait by Rembrandt Peale), though his forces outnumbered the British,
gave up without a fight, destroying a career built on valor in the American
Revolution. He had been outsmarted by his British opponent, General Isaac Brock, who didn’t want to
be in North America at all with the Napoleonic Wars going on in Europe, but who
ended up acclaimed by a grateful Canada.
Does Hull get taught in textbooks these days? Has he
ever? I remember not a thing about him from my school days. Yet the story of
the most massive (2,000 men laying down arms), disastrous (loss of the
then-Northwest) American surrender between the Revolution and Bataan in WWII is
one that should be taught every bit as much as Yorktown, New Orleans, Gettysburg,
Belleau Wood, or D-Day.
Former Vice-President Dick Cheney has been mocked
for predicting that American soldiers would be welcomed as liberators in Iraq,
but—as wrongheaded as that assessment proved to be—he was not the first
nationally prominent politician to be overly optimistic about our chances in a war. Just weeks before Hull’s surrender, Thomas Jefferson wrote in a
letter to journalist William Duane, “The acquisition of Canada this year, as far as the
neighborhood of Quebec, will be a mere matter of marching, and will give us
experience for the attack of Halifax the next, and the final expulsion of
England from the American continent.”
The ignominy attending Hull’s surrender was such
that, two years later, he would be court-martialed, and found guilty, of “treason,
cowardice, neglect of duty and unofficer-like conduct.” His conviction brought
a death sentence that the court suggested be set aside because of his age and
long-ago valor—a recommendation that President James Madison adopted.
Yet, if incompetence could have been added to the charges,
Madison, Jefferson’s longtime faithful lieutenant in the Democratic-Republican
Party, would have been tried, along with his predecessor, for a defense policy that ensured that the United States would be unprepared when war with Britain
broke out.
It was all well and good to be concerned about the
expenditures involved with a standing army, but Jefferson’s own experiences in the
American Revolution, when he just managed to escape British invaders in
Virginia, should have made him mindful of the possibility of a foreign
offensive. Instead, he and Madison supported militia (which most Continental
Army commanders, including George Washington, came to scorn for their
unreliability) and gunboats to patrol the shore.
Hull was one of those who, if he had pressed the
case, might have argued Jefferson and Madison out of their hidebound positions, at least about the militia.
But when he visited Washington earlier in the year, he had been intent simply
on arguing for the protection of Americans within the Michigan Territory, where
he had served as governor for the past seven years. He was at least somewhat more cautious than Jefferson and Madison in that he argued that an invasion of Canada shouldn't even be contemplated until the Great Lakes were secured.
Hull had another motive in going to Washington: he
hoped to be appointed Secretary of War—a nice way to cap his career.
But—at least at that point—the current holder of that office, William Eustis,
was going nowhere.
The Madison administration then sounded Hull out
about leading the invasion into Canada. The governor should have stuck to his
initial rejection of the offer. But the administration, with its next candidate
turning down the post, asked Hull again, who yielded this time upon the assurance
that he could simultaneously hold onto his position as territorial governor.
That acceptance turned out to be catastrophic for
Hull and the administration. Hull was not quite sixty yet, but, with his snow-white
hair, he looked a good decade older—and, with his massive weight limiting his
energy, acted like it. His subordinates, especially Colonel Lewis Cass (three
decades later, an unsuccessful candidate for President), came to despise and
even undercut him. When Hull’s performance in the field turned out to be
disastrous, the administration couldn’t wipe its hands of him quickly enough.
When war broke out over issues of impressment of American sailors and British incitement of Indian raids, American leaders liked
their chances of success against a foe facing the following deficits:
·
* A war against Napoleon that diverted the
best British soldiers an ocean away from North America;
* * A Canadian population with very few of
British birth, far more French-Canadian Catholics, and a not-inconsiderable
number of Americans itching to incorporate the land up north under the U.S.
umbrella;
·
* The Governor-General of Canada, Sir
George Prevost, had clashed constantly with Brock over the best measures of
preparedness.
But those pushing hardest for an
American thrust into Canada—not just Jefferson, Madison and Hull, but also
Speaker of the House and “War Hawk”
leader Henry Clay—ignored major disadvantages that they faced:
· *Those
in charge of national security—Madison, Eustis, Hull, and General Henry
Dearborn—hovered around the age of 60. Their experience of
war, if they had any at all, was confined to 30 years before. As Geoffrey
Perret pointed out in his history of America’s armed forces, A Country Made by War, even West Point,
created in 1802 as the base for the Army Corps of Engineers, became separated
from the artillery function of the military, with the engineers “virtually
civilians in uniform.” It would take the Mexican War and the Civil War for its
graduates to really make their mark in battle.
·
*At
the time, the Michigan Territory was only sparsely inhabited by whites, who
frequently found themselves surrounded by Native Americans.
The latter, incensed over land concessions extracted (often under morally
ambiguous circumstances) by Hull and William Henry Harrison, governor of the
Indiana Territory, gave a willing ear to British incitements to violence.
·
* The
militia so prized by Jefferson and Madison were about to prove their
fecklessness again, arguing, with the same kind of strict-construction
logic used by the Virginians, that they were under no obligation to do anything
except defend American soil, making their participation in any invasion of
Canada out of the question.
Once war was declared, Hull faced additional
obstacles that complicated his mission:
* * His army, assembled in Dayton, Ohio, was hundreds of miles away
from any of the three expected targets in Canada: Montreal, Quebec and Halifax.
* * Hull’s route to Detroit required his troops to march and clear their
way for 35 days through thick forests and swamps—and badly extended his
supply lines.
* * Located closer to Washington than
Hull, Prevost and Brock knew of the outbreak
of war before Hull, depriving him of the element of surprise.
* * A ship containing Hull’s personal papers was intercepted by the British,
who discovered the general’s troop estimates, his battle plans, and—crucially for
the upcoming weeks—his fear of Indian attacks.
* * The Chippewas’ seizure of Fort Michilimackinac, an American outpost
on Lake Huron, emboldened other tribes in the area to ally with the feared
Indian chief Tecumseh in his attempt to drive the Americans out of the Northwest.
With no militia to support his
regular troops in an attack on Fort Malden in Upper Canada, Hull withdrew to
Detroit. By this time, Brock--already blessed with his own native energy, now also
possessed of intelligence about his opponent’s timorous psyche—pursued him
across the border.
As he moved closer to the Americans’
fortifications, Brock’s own subordinates questioned whether he was putting his
1,300 troops unnecessarily at risk against the 2,000 entrenched U.S. forces.
But Brock understood his trump card: that the great portion of his force,
Tecumseh’s 1,000 braves, would strike fear into Hull. He sent an artfully
crafted message to the American commander, disavowing any “war of attrition,”
while immediately following this disclaimer with, “but you must be aware that
the numerous body of Indians who have attached themselves to my troops will be beyond
my control the moment the content commences.”
The message put Hull—whose own
family was inside the garrison--on the edge of a nervous breakdown. Henry Adams,
in his History of the United States During the Administrations of James Madison, quotes a witness from his
subsequent court-martial, watching Hull sitting on an old tent as Brock poured cannon fire
into his fort: “He apparently unconsciously filled his mouth with tobacco,
putting in quid after quid more than he generally did; the spittle colored with
tobacco-juice ran from his mouth on his neckcloth, beard, cravat, and vest.”
To the rage of his own soldiers,
Hull gave up the fort without firing a shot. He would spend the rest of his
life insisting that he saved his countrymen from sure massacre at the hands of
the Indians. For their part, Americans—humiliated by their leaders’ failure to
make good on their promise for a quick, speedy, successful war—made him a
scapegoat for the administration's larger failures of policy and strategy.
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