‘A Pretty Sharp Skirmish’ – Turning Point at Harlem Heights

By Joshua Shepherd

A detachment of 230 rangers and riflemen scrambled up a rocky escarpment on New York’s Manhattan Island on the morning of September 16, 1776. The lone figure out in front, leading the way up through a tangle of boulders was their commander, Lt. Col. Thomas Knowlton. A hero at Bunker Hill and founder of an elite company of scouts, the 35-year-old was already a legend in the young Continental Army.

But on this morning, Knowlton was carrying out the most important mission of his life, heading up a surprise flank attack on British troops at the direct order of Gen. George Washington. As his rangers negotiated the last few yards of the hillside, Knowlton glanced over his shoulder and surveyed his men. He was known to be an officer who led by personal example. Orderly Sergeant David Thorp recalled that Knowlton never ordered “Go on boys” but rather exhorted his men to “Come on, boys!” Urging them forward, Knowlton plunged over the top.

For Washington, the fight that would unfold in the rolling countryside of Manhattan Island was a determined effort to strike back against a seemingly invincible British army and breathe new life in a faltering Patriot war effort. In fact, the campaign season of 1776 had been nearly disastrous for the Continental Army.

The year had begun promisingly enough, as the American siege of British forces in Boston ended in success. In March, resourceful Continentals succeeded in erecting a commanding artillery battery on Dorchester Heights, immediately rendering British positions in the city untenable. Without the cost of a major battle, Washington had succeeded in prying the British out of Boston. On March 17, Major General William Howe, overall commander of Crown forces, evacuated the city and sailed his army for the safety of Halifax, Nova Scotia.

Washington was convinced, however, that Howe would eventually target New York City for a variety of reasons. First and foremost, the Royal Navy would need a deep water port to continue operations on the eastern seaboard after being driven out of Boston. A center of Loyalist sentiment and one of the most vital trade centers in North America, the city also commanded the mouth of the Hudson River, a crucial navigable waterway that could potentially be used to sever the rebellious colonies in two.

In the weeks following the evacuation of Boston, Washington made plans to transfer the Continental Army to New York, arriving there personally by the middle of April. As soon as he surveyed the ground, however, Washington believed that effectively defending New York would be virtually impossible.

The city itself, situated at the southern tip of Manhattan Island, was a crowded, bustling market town, awash with Loyalist spies. Worse yet, the city was dangerously flanked by the Hudson and East Rivers. Although Washington expanded construction of fortifications and artillery positions to help defend the city and control river traffic, it was obvious that the Continental Army would be outmatched and outgunned if the Royal Navy decided to make a concerted effort.

But the political considerations of making a tangible defense of the city ultimately outweighed operational realities. Rather than concentrate his forces, Washington was forced to carve up his army in an attempt to forestall any potential British move. Washington divided his army into five divisions, placing three in New York City, one in northern Manhattan, and one on Long Island.

Despite such preparations, the appearance in the middle of June of the immense British armada carrying Lord Howe’s overwhelming force of 32,000 men was a mortifying sight. Washington had little choice but to assume a static defensive posture.

Known as a methodical planner, Howe was nonetheless ready to make a move by the end of the summer. On August 22, 15,000 Crown troops landed on Long Island, clearly aiming to drive American troops off of the Brooklyn Heights, overlooking New York City just across the East River. Opposing him were a mere 5,000 Americans under the command of Maj.-Gen. Israel Putnam, dug in across a ridge known as the Heights of Guan.

On the evening of August 26, British forces executed a daring flanking movement, entirely unhinging the Continental line on the heights. The American high command had been caught flat footed and paid a high price. As their line collapsed, American troops fled for a new defensive position in a wild stampede that resulted in more than 2,000 men killed, wounded, or captured.

The embarrassing debacle called for Washington’s direct intervention. Arriving on Long Island later on the morning of August 27, Washington assumed direct command but had few good options. Badly outnumbered and confined to a dangerously shrinking perimeter on Brooklyn Heights, he made the decision to evacuate his men from Long Island and regroup on Manhattan. On the night of August 29, Washington executed a daring night withdrawal in the face of the enemy, and succeeded in getting his men safely across the East River.

With the fall of Brooklyn Heights and the British now in possession of both Long Island and the smaller Governor’s Island, New York City was increasingly ringed with enemy strongholds. Maj. Gen. Nathanael Greene privately counseled Washington to abandon Manhattan entirely and regroup farther north on ground of their own choosing. One of Washington’s aides-de-camp, Joseph Reed, recorded in his diary that, “We cannot stay and yet we do not know how to go.”

By the first week of September, Washington finally admitted what he had known all along—without any realistic means of resisting the Royal Navy, the labyrinth of navigable rivers which surrounded the island rendered it indefensible. With an uncontested superiority on the water, Howe could strike the Rebels at a time and place of his own choosing.

In a September 8 report to Congress, Washington detailed his pending decision to abandon Manhattan. He knew the effect it would have on Patriot morale, but the unenviable choice couldn’t be postponed any longer. Surrendering the city would be demoralizing, but the loss of the army itself would be nothing short of calamitous.

To preserve the army to fight another day, Washington planned to pull out of the city during the next week. As a field commander, he felt that he had few good options, and bemoaned that no matter where he turned he was confronted with “a Choice of difficulties.” Worse yet, it was obvious to Washington that the inexperienced troops of the Continental Army were in desperate need of real training and discipline. No matter what decision he made, Washington wrote, he would do so “with some Apprehension that all our troops will not do their duty.”

As events would prove, Washington’s fears were by no means misplaced. On the evening of September 14, he moved his headquarters out of the city and took up lodgings at the Morris Mansion on the northern reaches of Manhattan. The job of moving the army out of the city, however, was a painfully slow process. As the sun set that evening, there were still about 3,500 American troops in the city limits.

As Washington labored over his decision, Howe had not been idle. Keen to trap the upstart army once and for all and deliver the coup-de-grace to the rebellion, he made preparations to sever Manhattan Island in half. During the evening of the fourteenth, five British men-of-war anchored in the East River just off of Kip’s Bay, training their guns on American entrenchments above the bay.

The following morning, American troops under the command of Col. William Douglas were aghast at the sight. Matters only grew worse when a veritable fleet of flatboats pushed into the East River from the opposite bank. They were loaded with a landing force of British troops and German auxiliaries. Joseph Plumb Martin, a Connecticut soldier watching the scene unfold from a perch atop Kip’s Bay, was mesmerized by the grand sight. The scarlet coats of the British troops, he thought, resembled a “large clover field in bloom.”

The spell was broken when the British ships opened fire at 11 a.m. with a thunderous crash that rocked Manhattan. The hour-long naval bombardment shattered the American entrenchments commanding the bay, leaving no artillery in a position to effectively respond. Most of the American troops were green, and a number of them were armed with little more than pikes. For the infantry, there was little more to do than seek cover and pray for an end to the cannonade.

British officers were delighted by the sight of the inferno. Ambrose Serle, then serving as Howe’s secretary, described the view as “awful & grand—I might say beautiful. The hills, the woods, the river [engulfed in] pillars of smoke.”

The American troops on the receiving end did not share this view and, when the barrage lifted about noon, a veritable stampede ensued. Despite their officer’s pleadings, the troops broke in confusion and raced pell-mell for the rear. British flatboats landed with little opposition. Crown troops then pushed swiftly inland; German troops on the left, British grenadiers in the center, and light infantry on the right.

The day developed into a disaster for the Continental Army. The German troops fixed bayonets and charged forward on the American right, skewering terrified soldiers caught in the advance. On the left, the Continentals were more fleet of foot as any semblance of unit cohesion fell apart and Douglas’ panicked troops ran from the field. “The demons of fear and disorder seemed to take full possession of all and everything on that day,” a sheepish Joseph Plumb Martin confessed later.

Washington had been foiled once again by the combination of a wily enemy and his own inexperienced troops. Galloping onto the field, Washington shouted for order and, after vainly pleading for his men to rally, the frustrated general took to whipping them, wildly swinging at recalcitrant troops. Amid this scene, the British infantry suddenly appeared about 100 yards away.

According to one account, an infuriated Washington threw his hat to the ground, shouting “Good God, are these the troops with which I am to defend America?” It was with some difficulty that his staff convinced the enraged general to head for the rear.

In fact, all over the island American troops were on the run. With his route of escape from New York City gravely threatened, Maj. Gen. Israel Putnam got his 3,500 men on the move, marching them north along the Hudson River in a desperate attempt to escape the British trap. A raw-bitten old veteran of the French and Indian War, Putnam pushed his men hard. While the methodical Howe secured his beachhead, Putnam slipped the noose, reuniting his command with the main body of the army.

But in his haste to extricate his men from looming capture, Putnam had been forced to abandon a vast stockpile of ordnance and munitions, including 12,000 round shot and a priceless 64 heavy guns. For the cash-strapped Continentals it was a nearly irreplaceable loss, and constituted nearly half of Washington’s artillery train.

Equally discouraging was the loss of life in the one-sided fighting at Kip’s Bay. Overrun by superior Crown forces, the narrowly avoided catastrophe had been costly for the Patriots—some 50 killed and 370 captured.

Despite the setback, Washington was already in the process of digging in on more defensible ground at the north end of the island. As scattered detachments straggled in from New York City and the East River, Washington consolidated his troops along Harlem Heights, a low ridge that traversed the island from east to west.

From here, Washington planned a defense-in-depth and set his men to constructing fieldworks in three parallel lines along the heights. The crucial southernmost line fronting the enemy was occupied by Maj. Gen. Nathanael Greene, a cerebral Rhode Islander and self-taught military man, who was Washington’s most trusted division commander. The Harlem Heights line would be a substantial obstacle if Howe pushed north up the island.

Washington’s fears were borne out when enemy light infantry pickets had pushed to within a few hundred yards of the American front line, possibly probing for a weak spot in preparation for a larger offensive. Early on the morning of September 16, Washington ordered out a scouting party to ascertain British dispositions. The troops were to head south from Harlem Heights, cross a narrow valley known as the Hollow Way, and probe British positions on heights near the Hudson River.

In selecting the officer to head up the mission, Washington turned to Knowlton, one of his best men. In an army largely composed of inexperienced volunteers, Knowlton was a veteran who possessed a depth of experience. At 15, he had joined a provincial unit in his native Connecticut during the French and Indian War. By 20, he had been promoted to lieutenant. Subsequent to the French and Indian War, Knowlton continued his service during the siege of Havana in 1762.

Early in the Revolution Knowlton had served with distinction at Bunker Hill, and was eventually promoted to the rank of lieutenant colonel. But by the middle of August, 1776, Washington gave Knowlton his most important assignment yet. The colonel was given command of a new unit of rangers, a crack outfit of light troops who would carry out scouting duties. Knowlton, who had served as a scout and ranger in his younger days, selected promising men from Connecticut, Rhode Island, and Massachusttes to fill out the ranks of his company.

As Knowlton readied his men for the patrol, he was aware that he would be up against the light infantry, some of the best of the British troops. Only recently reintroduced throughout the British army these units were made up of younger, more agile men that had quickly become a vital tactical tool for field commanders, primarily for screening and skirmishing.

To aid in mobility and impart esprit-de-corps, they were specially uniformed with short jackets and small leather caps. They also received incessant specialized training. Unlike their regular counterparts, the light infantry received training in loading and firing their weapons from a prone position. On the battlefield, the light infantry were not opponents to be trifled with.

Knowlton, in command of about 150 rangers, headed out before dawn. Cautiously moving south for about a mile, they ran into enemy pickets that opened fire and alerted an advance post of light infantry. Knowlton kept his men moving, but quickly met heavy resistance. Light infantry was rapidly forming in his front, and it was obvious that he was opposed by superior numbers.

True to their reputation, the light infantry began lapping around Knowlton’s flanks, and he immediately ordered his men to fall back. The rangers succeeded in executing a fighting withdrawal, and Knowlton drew his men off until they reached a more defensive position. Halting behind a stone wall, the rangers rallied and a sharp firefight ensued.

Meanwhile at headquarters, Washington and his staff worked by candlelight on correspondence. As the general’s staff toiled away at routine paperwork, an agitated courier arrived from the front. The man reported that the British were advancing in force, moving north in three heavy columns. Washington and Reed doubted the report’s accuracy. Jittery American pickets regularly sent in false alarms about British movements. Reed suggested that he ride out for a closer look, and Washington agreed. Reed was a key member of Washington’s small but tight-knit staff, and a close confidant of the general.

At the front Reed found the sharp fighting continuing, and though the American rangers were being pushed back, they were contesting every inch of ground. As Reed and Knowlton conferred, a party of British troops sprinted into the open and fired at the exposed American officers.

As the fighting retreat continued, Reed took shelter in a farmhouse and watched as Knowlton’s men gave a good accounting of themselves. He was accustomed to seeing American troops in full flight from Crown forces. But this morning, the rangers coolly traded volleys with the British, slowly and deliberately falling back.

As the retreat continued, Washington arrived on the field to personally assess the fighting. As Reed joined him to give him the latest news, the pair was greeted by a familiar sight. As Knowlton’s men fell back across the Hollow Way, enemy light infantry followed close on their heels. Rather than issue battlefield orders by fife and drum, the light infantry customarily signaled by the use of horns. As the redcoats swarmed over the hillside, a trumpeter could be heard above the gunfire.

Reed took the horn for an affront. He later wrote that the British sounded a horn “in the most insulting manner…as is usual after a fox chase. I never felt such a sensation before—it seemed to crown our disgrace.”

As Knowlton’s harried men ran into the safety of the American lines, Washington was able to get a better grasp of the situation. Most of the enemy remained hidden from view, but Knowlton reported that from what he could gather, there were about 300 of them. Washington listened closely, thought for a moment, and then made a snap decision. Rather than simply swat back at the small enemy detachment, he immediately decided to hit hard and bag the whole lot.

By nature and inclination Washington was an inherently aggressive field commander, a trait which became apparent as he looked over the Hollow Way. From his vantage point, Washington felt that the enemy troops had driven far beyond their own lines and were dangerously exposed. Washington made plans to not only drive the Redcoats back, but to destroy them in detail. As he put it, he “formed a design of cutting off such of them as had or might advance to the extremity of the wood.”

After skirmishing all morning, Knowlton’s men were itching to strike back at the British and Washington would give them the chance. The plan called for 150 men to advance into the Hollow Way as a feint, and volunteers were quickly drawn from Brig.-Gen. John Nixon’s brigade of Massachusetts and Rhode Island troops. Nixon’s men would occupy and tie down the exposed British troops. Knowlton would lead another column wide around the enemy’s right flank before falling on its rear.

Knowlton’s outfit would be bolstered by the addition of three rifle companies drawn from Col. George Weedon’s recently arrived 3rd Virginia Regiment. The honor of commanding the three rifle companies, however, fell to Major Andrew Leitch, of the 1st Virginia. Leitch had served as a company captain in the 3rd before his promotion to Major in the 1st. While Knowlton readied his men for the attack, Reed, who volunteered to accompany the flanking party as a guide, rode out for the rear with orders to bring up Leitch and his Virginians.

While he did so, the 150 man decoy party, under the command of Rhode Islander Lt.-Col. Archibald Crary, formed up and marched into the Hollow Way. As the New Englanders moved into the open, it seems that the British on the opposite heights got ready to receive an attack. Capt. John Chilton, a company commander in the 3rd Virginia, recalled looking up the hillsides and seeing Redcoats “peeping from their heights over the fencings and rocks and running backwards and forwards.”

But as the Americans halted, British troops took the bait and moved into the open, working their way downhill. With the enemy light infantry lured into the open as hoped, more Continental troops were thrown forward in support, including the bulk of Nixon’s Brigade as well as Weedon’s 3rd Virginia.

Washington’s plan hinged on avoiding a general engagement in the Hollow Way and simply tying down the British there. Accordingly, the troops were under strict orders not to open fire. But when the enemy worked their way about 250 yards from the American line, an inexperienced and jittery junior officer, much to Weedon’s consternation, ordered his men to fire.

The unexpected and ineffective musketry caused a ripple effect in the American ranks. Spontaneously, the green troops opened fire from the right to the left, unleashing a ragged volley uphill toward the British. An infuriated Weedon desperately tried to restore order, shouting for his men to cease fire. But his orders were ignored amid the confusion and gunfire. Even Captain Chilton, who heard Weedon shouting, thought that the colonel was calling for the men to “keep up our fire.”

While Weedon shouted himself hoarse, the firing continued from both sides. But with the bulk of Nixon’s Brigade thrown in the fight, the British backed off a bit and took up positions behind an overgrown rail fence.

The Continentals fired an estimated four volleys before the officers finally regained control. Remarkably, the Americans then wiped down their guns, and rather than fall back to a better position, they sat down in ranks. Although they remained targets for the British light infantry, they succeeded in buying more time for Knowlton’s flanking party.

Remaining in that unenviable position was no small accomplishment for green troops. But while the enemy light infantry continued to send balls whistling downhill, the Americans sat still. It was a severe test of nerves for men unaccustomed to combat. Captain Chilton was ebullient in his praise for the men. The grim test went on for nearly an hour, and Chilton recalled that “our men observed the best order, not quitting their ranks, though exposed to a constant and warm fire.” In the warmest of praise, Chilton observed that his men “behaved like soldiers.”

With enemy attention occupied in the Hollow Way, Knowlton and Leitch succeeded in forming up their flanking party and working around the British right flank, though all was not going according to plan. As the Americans tried to feel their way around the British flank, Reed was with Leitch’s Virginians, who seem to have become disoriented by the unfamiliar terrain. Reed later indicated that the excited troops were moving too fast for him to direct, and in the confusion arrived out of position.

As they climbed up the rocky slopes that held the British, the Americans discovered too late that they had come in right off the enemy’s right flank, rather than the rear. Without hesitation, Knowlton and Leitch urged their men forward, hoping to tear into the enemy’s exposed flank. But as American troops stormed up the heights and opened fire, the British were able to pull back their right flank in order to meet the threat. Before Knowlton could launch the full weight of his force onto the enemy, they had been afforded a few priceless moments to prepare.

A fierce firefight developed on the top of the plateau, as elite troops from each side battled fiercely for control of the high ground. As Knowlton’s men surged forward, the British light infantry was forced to give ground, but, true to their training, maintained a constant fire and contested every inch as they fell back.

The Americans paid for their gains. The hillside was alive with musketry, and men began to tumble. Leitch was in the thick of the fighting, urging his riflemen forward. In just three minutes, the indomitable Virginian was struck twice. Through sheer force of will, Leitch refused treatment and stayed on his feet. A third wound finally staggered Leitch and knocked him to the ground. Still conscious, he was carried off the field with two balls in the stomach and one in the hip.

As the Americans pushed across the top of the summit, Knowlton turned to urge his men on and a musket ball tore into the small of his back and he crumpled, but remained fully conscious. Capt. Stephen Brown witnessed him fall, and immediately ran to his side. As Brown knelt over him, he asked Knowlton if he was badly wounded. “Yes,” he replied, “but I do not value my Life if we do but get the Day.”

Despite the pain, Knowlton retained his composure, and, like any good field commander, did his best not to demoralize his troops. Remarkably, Brown thought that Knowlton seemed unconcerned and “calm as tho’ nothing had happened to him.” Brown shouted for two men to carry the colonel off the field. All the while, Knowlton ordered Brown to maintain pressure on the British and carry through with the attack.

As Knowlton was carried to the rear, the spectacle caused by his wounding attracted the attention of Reed, who had stayed with the flanking party during the attack. Reed ordered the wounded colonel thrown across his own horse and he personally escorted Knowlton to the rear.

Although Knowlton’s attack had failed to strike the British rear as planned, the ferocity of the assault was slowly pushing the light infantry back. Seeking cover and a better defensive position, the Redcoats retreated to the high ground to their rear, which was covered with a hardwood forest. Washington, sensing a potential victory within reach, committed fresh troops to the fight, and ordered up a mixed bag of reinforcements.

Among the troops that entered the Hollow Way was Joseph Plumb Martin, who had joined the wild retreat from Kip’s Bay just the day before. As his regiment marched into the valley, they saw British troops scampering into “a thick wood” on the opposite hillside.

While the British troops attempted to rally in the woods, more American troops poured into the fight. Senior officers watched in admiration as two Maryland regiments, commanded by colonels Charles Griffith and William Richardson, went into action. The Marylanders were green troops but executed their attack with a good bit of spirit, maintaining their ranks as they crossed the valley and moved uphill towards the enemy.

Washington and his staff witnessed the assault. Lt.-Col. Tench Tilghman, a native Marylander serving on Washington’s staff, was delighted with the troops’ performance. As they crashed into the British line, Tilghman reported that the men “charged with as much bravery as I can conceive.” The hillside roiled in smoke, and the weight of American numbers began to tell. With their front hard pressed and their flanks dangerously threatened, British troops in the woods finally cracked and bolted for the rear.

But for the veteran Redcoats, the fight was far from over. As they raced south across the plateau, officers succeeded in rallying their men, forming up a new defensive line across high ground that straddled a buckwheat field. As the battle developed, both sides fed troops into the fight hastily and with little foresight. Washington would rush about 1,800 men toward the buckwheat field. Generals Putnam and Greene rode onto the field and assumed direct command of the fighting.

On the British side, command of the fighting was assumed by Brig.-Gen. Alexander Leslie, a determined career officer who had been fighting Americans since the outbreak of the war. Leslie likewise called up reinforcements, swelling his ranks with some of the best troops in Howe’s army. His lines included two full battalions of elite light infantry, grenadiers, Hessian jaegers, and elements of the 42nd Regiment of Foot, the famed Black Watch.

What had started as a running skirmish developed into a conventional fight. Both sides volleyed steadily, but there was little effort to develop a cohesive plan. Crown forces, accustomed to seeing little fight out of the Rebels, were shocked by the ferocity of the engagement. For their part, the Americans were exhilarated. The British had been running all morning, and the Continentals were now holding their own in a toe-to-toe fight. Heavy musketry roared across the buckwheat, shrouding the field in dense clouds of smoke.

The outright slugfest continued for nearly two hours. Leslie, however, had no interest in bringing on a general engagement, and was content to simply hold off the American onslaught. The fighting also quickly depleted the mens’ cartridge boxes; the Hessians and Highlanders both reportedly exhausted their ammunition. Hard pressed and unwilling to maintain a needless fight, Leslie ordered his men to fall back.

With Crown troops in flight, exultant American troops rushed forward instinctively. The pursuit continued across the buckwheat field and into an orchard. Although the Continentals were eager to keep fighting, Washington wisely reckoned that he had pressed his luck as far as he dare. The overextended enemy light infantry had been chewed up and repulsed, but a full scale pitched battle with Howe’s entire army was out of the question.

Washington therefore dispatched Tilghman with orders for the troops to disengage. Greene and Putnam pulled their men back, and remained in front of the Harlem Heights lines until sunset. Howe was nonetheless disinclined to launch a counterattack. For the British, the battle at Harlem Heights had been a rather pointless and costly distraction. Sir Henry Clinton, who generally offered unvarnished opinions, held that the arrogance of the elite troops had caused the entire affair. “The ungovernable impetuosity of the light troops,” he wrote, “drew us into this scrape.”

As the American army settled into their lines that night, officers noticed a palpable shift in morale. The fighting at Harlem Heights had been a heady victory for the Continental Army, and a desperately needed tonic for Americans accustomed to defeat. Washington regarded Harlem Heights as a skirmish, but saw that the fighting had “a surprising and almost incredible effect upon our whole army…every visage was seen to brighten, and to assume, instead of the gloom of despair, the glow of animation.”

The victory at Harlem Heights, however, had been no mere skirmish for the men who gave their lives. On the day following the battle, Lt. Samuel Richards led an American work party out into the bloodstained meadows of the Hollow Way. As Richards and his men fanned out across the valley to locate the dead, they eventually found 33 slain Americans.

The bodies were brought to a central location and interred together in a single mass grave. A number of the bodies were reported to have sustained ghastly head wounds; rumors quickly spread that they had been bludgeoned by Hessian troops. Fittingly, Richards described the assignment as a “mournful duty.”

Among the dead were both Knowlton and Leitch. Although it was initially thought that Leitch would survive his wounds, regimental surgeon David Griffiths reported that the major died on October 2, violently “seized by the lock’d jaw.” Knowlton died later on the day of the battle. Reed recorded that the colonel remained a quintessential soldier to the end. “When gasping in the agonies of death,” recalled Reed, “all his inquiry was if we had drove the enemy.”

All told, American losses amounted to 33 killed and about 100 wounded. Precise numbers of British casualties were difficult to fix but Howe likely lost a similar number of men. The Americans buried 16 Redcoats that had been left on the field; a British deserter later reported that 89 British soldiers had been wounded in action

The results of the battle, however, were electrifying for the common soldier. After months of being repeatedly bested by superior British troops, American soldiers had finally turned the tables on their opponents. The British aura of invincibility, which was so devastating to American morale, had finally been proven an illusion. For the first time, the Continentals had bested Crown forces in an open field engagement. If the conditions were right, it was apparent that American volunteers could stand toe-to-toe with some of the finest troops in the world.

The American high command was more than pleased with the outcome of the fighting. Greene, whose division had spearheaded the assault across the heights south of the Hollow Way, came to the conclusion that the American soldier could indeed master the battlefield, but that he needed proper training and better leadership from the officer corps.

For his part, the army’s artillery chief Maj.-Gen. Henry Knox recognized that the Battle of Harlem Heights, despite the limited number of troops involved, had been a priceless boost to American morale. The average Continental, wrote Knox, discovered that “if they stick to these mighty men,” as he dismissively referred to the British, “they will run as fast as other people.”

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