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Thinking about today brings to mind the memoir of Joseph Plumb Martin, probably the best known personal account of any left to posterity by an American soldier who served in the War of Independence. In The Battle of Harlem Heights, 1776, I wrote about one scene in particular that is depicted in his narrative, and I’d like too share that excerpt below:
Private Martin illustrated the reality of the common soldier’s
relative anonymity in his recollection of an incident that followed
the Harlem Heights engagement: “A circumstance occurred on
the evening after this action, which although trifling in its nature,
excited in me feelings which I shall never forget. When we came
off the field we brought away a man who had been shot dead
upon the spot; and after we had refreshed ourselves we pro-
ceeded to bury him.” The grave was dug on the grounds of the
Morris house that served as Washington’s headquarters, where
Martin’s party endeavored, “just in the dusk of evening, to com-
mit the poor man, then far from friends and relatives, to the
bosom of his mother earth.”
As soon as they laid him in the ground, “in as decent a posture
as existing circumstances would permit, there came from the
house, towards the grave, two young ladies who appeared to be
sisters;—as they approached the grave, the soldiers immediately
made way for them.” When the women reached “the head of the
grave, they stopped, and with their arms around each other’s
neck, stooped forward and looked into it.” They “asked if we were
going to put the earth upon his naked face,” and when “answered
in the affirmative, one of them took a fine white gauze handker-
chief from her neck” and asked that it be used to cover his face,
as “tears, at the same time, [were] flowing down their cheeks.”
Once the grave was filled, they returned to the house.
Although no one there knew the man being buried, “yet he
had mourners,” Martin writes, heaping praise on this tender-
hearted duo: “Worthy young ladies! You, and such as you, are de-
serving the regard of the greatest of men. What sisters, what wives,
what mothers and what neighbors would you make!—Such a sight
as those ladies afforded at that time, and on that occasion, was
worthy, and doubtless received the attention of angels.” That
affecting moment’s indelible impression on Martin found its way
into his memoir, which was published more than a half-century
later and became one of the best-known primary accounts of
army life in the Revolution.
To any reader who has worn our country’s uniform, thank you for your service.