By Kelly Bell
Yearning for more out of life than a woman could hope for in her place and time, Deborah Sampson took the only opportunity she could see to fully realize her patriotic ambitions and wanderlust—she cut her waist-length blonde hair, put on men’s clothes and joined the Continental Army to fight for the embryonic country’s independence during the American Revolution.
Born in 1760, Sampson was completely on her own by the age of 17, supporting herself by teaching school and earning board by sewing for local families. When their need for a seamstress was satisfied she would move on to the next brood awaiting her services. When she heard of Gen. George Washington’s 1782 call for 20,000 volunteer recruits to repulse British efforts to reverse the colonies’ mounting military momentum, Sampson decided to forgo sewing and to act on a forbidden dream before the fighting ended.
At 5-foot-7 Sampson, now 22, was of above-average height for a man of her day, and much taller than most 18th century women, so her size would not be a problem in keeping her secret. Luckily, sideburns were not then in fashion. Tightly binding her breasts she gave herself a flat-chested appearance, then pulled on a man’s shirt, breeches, waistcoat, overcoat, hat and buckle shoes. It was an outfit one saw every day on young men who worked outdoors, and she was pleased at her convincing appearance as she gazed into a full-length looking glass. She was not a beautiful woman, but this transformation had produced a handsome “man.”
Being raised with four brothers, and having boarded with a farmer and his eight (later ten) sons, Sampson was knowledgeable in male ways and gifted with a naturally low voice.
With confidence she soon set out to join the Continental Army. Her first attempt was at the town of Middleborough, Massachusetts, but her true identity was discovered before she was able to leave for the Army camp. Undaunted, she was making a second attempt in another town when she was approached by an unfamiliar man who turned out to be a “speculator”—then a common term for Army recruiter. She traveled with the speculator in an ox cart to Worcester, where she told the Army recruiting officer that she was just 17, hoping to allay any suspicions about her beardlessness. On May 20, 1782, she signed up for a 3-year enlistment using the name “Robert Shurtliff,” the first and middle names of her eight-year-old brother who had died just before her birth.
Sampson was assigned to the 4th Massachusetts Regiment, which had been formed in April 1775 from 12 Minuteman companies of armed civilian militia. She and her fellow rookies were now commanded by Sergeant William Gambel, but there was little time to get acquainted before the unit marched west and south, crossing a portion of Connecticut, to the Hudson River, a journey of two weeks of trudging through thunderstorms and freakish freezing weather in early June. The column, swollen from 50 to 300 by yet more recruits joining along the trek, crossed the river via ferry and set off down a stagecoach road for the final 13 miles to the military fortress of West Point. Upon reaching the bristling bastion, Sampson was filled with excitement—not only was she finally a professional soldier, but part of a vital garrison.
At the Point she was billeted with other infantrymen, issued a uniform, along with a French Charleville musket. The rest of her gear included a cartridge box with a sling, a bayonet with a scabbard, a wooden canteen, a haversack containing rations, an extra shirt, blanket and a King James Bible.
The military routine was not difficult for Sampson as she drilled and helped plant vegetable gardens on orders directly from General Washington (who was anxious to head off outbreaks of scurvy). She kept to herself, concealed her sex by avoiding the communal latrines during the day (the bordering forest provided an alternative) and bathed only occasionally at night in the Hudson River. The main problem was her monthly period. Trading her rum ration for strips of cloth the men used as towels she used them to absorb the blood which otherwise would have stained her white breeches and revealed her secret. Not once did she allow menstruation to interfere with her soldiering.
Sampson’s size, agility and marksmanship landed her an assignment to the crack Light Infantry company. During campaigns they were temporarily divorced from their parent regiments and reassembled into provisional units for special missions. She was further elated at not only infiltrating the male stronghold of the Army, but at winning such exalted status within it. Her company was commanded by Capt. George Webb, and was part of the 1st Brigade under Gen. John Paterson, with overall authority vested in West Point commandant Maj. Gen. Henry Knox, who sent his Light Infantry on missions requiring above-average intelligence and stealth, such as scouting enemy movements, espionage, sabotage and taking prisoners for interrogation. While historical records regarding Sampson’s military service are scarce, soon after her arrival at the Point, Sampson’s company was ordered to prepare for a four-day excursion.
General Washington had ordered a scouting foray southward to Harlem, eight miles outside New York City. It required a 50-mile march through disputed territory to a burg within the British sphere of control, and should any soldiers be captured by the enemy they were certain to be treated as spies and hanged. With a combination of fear and exhilaration Sampson and her comrades embarked on their quest.
It was a vital mission. Loyalist cavalry commanded by English officers were using New York City as a base for raiding Patriot-owned farms, spying on American movements and attacking isolated units. General Washington was targeting one unit of Tories in particular.
Composed mainly of troops of recent Dutch ancestry, the Westchester Light Horse Battalion, part of Oliver DeLancey’s brigade of New York loyalist troops, was stationed at Morrisania near Long Island Sound and commanded by Col. James DeLancey. Behaving like a pack of hoodlum freebooters they regularly raided local settlements, plundering, raping and burning. It was not a situation to be tolerated, so Sampson and 40 fellow soldiers packed their haversacks and set out to penetrate as far as possible into hostile territory, noting enemy movements, dispositions and any new fortifications, before returning with their intelligence so that a punitive expedition could be mounted to put a stop to the excesses of DeLancey’s raiders.
On the second morning, the unit split into two groups so as to be able to reconnoiter a larger area and agreed to rendezvous that evening at White Plains, to the southeast. Reaching Harlem, Sampson’s band, under the command of Ens. Jacob Towne, crept inside British lines and took careful note of enemy troop strength and deployment, re-crossed the 1776 battlefields and rejoined their compatriots.
After passing the night at White Plains, the detachment set out for Tarrytown. Soon after getting underway they were jolted by a volley of musketry from off to the side of the trail they were following. A ball cut the red-tipped feather from Sampson’s cap. Another thudded into a tree just behind her. Spinning to face her assailants she saw a force of cavalry and two red-coated officers. As her sergeant roared, “FIRE!,” she crouched and added her first-ever shot in battle to the chorus of reports around her, and saw a number of the horsemen topple from their mounts. A column of infantry then appeared beside the riders and poured another volley into the Patriots, dropping several of them as the noncom bellowed, “RETREAT!” As she followed him into the comparative shelter of the forest, another lead ball tore through her sleeve and she could hear Continental troops screaming off to either side of her as they were hit.
From out of nowhere, a barrage of gunfire rang out from in front of the fleeing rebels, followed by shrieks of pain and astonishment from the Tories. Three platoons of Patriot troops out of Tarrytown had arrived and they now decimated the enemy, as the surviving Redcoats took to their heels. Col. Ebenezer Sproat of the 2nd Massachusetts Regiment had come to the rescue. He and his men had heard the shooting from their nearby post and raced to take part in the melee.
After examining the fallen Redcoats, the Continentals realized they had been attacked by the DeLancey Regiment itself and, if not for Sproat’s timely arrival, would likely have been wiped out by this gang of war criminals who rarely took prisoners. It was a baptism of fire more terrifying than most, but “Robert Shurtliff” had reacted well and come through it alive and prepared for more.
In what may have been Sampson’s next combat episode, possibly in September 1782, her sergeant, Calvin Munn, asked if she wished to volunteer for “a special mission to retaliate on the enemy.” Munn and Sampson went to their new regimental commander, Col. Henry Jackson, and outlined their plan. Although skeptical of its chances, he agreed to give his permission if they could convince 28 more troops to volunteer for the raid. By the end of the day the pair had rounded up the required number, and the next morning they set out for a place she called “Von Hoite,” possibly the home of William Haight.
The Haights were a large family in this area of Westchester County, New York, which was a heavily contested “Neutral Ground” between British-held New York City and American lines. DeLancey’s cowboys were involved in some 40 raids and skirmishes in the area.
Recent research suggests this action may have taken place near Tarrytown, where they hoped to catch DeLancey’s command by surprise. Arriving at the town’s outskirts they took up positions in the surrounding woods and awaited the expected plundering of local residences.
When a couple of boys carrying a load of provisions appeared making their way through the woods, Mann intercepted them and asked what they were doing.
“We’re hiding food the Tories stole,” replied the youthful Loyalist, who added, “They left to get some Yankees who have been sniping at them, but they’re coming back for the food.”
Playing along, Mann told the boys that he and his men were also Tories and asked to see what supplies they had.
The naive boys led the soldiers inside a nearby cave, which was full of bundles of bacon, butter, cheese and jars of honey. The hungry rebels stuffed themselves, filled their haversacks and then told the shocked youngsters their true identity. Mann sent the boys scurrying home, knowing they would spread the word about the infiltrators. He planned to attack the Loyalists when they came to survey the damage to their food cache, so he had his command return to the woods to wait.
Several hours after dark a mounted party of about 40 Tories arrived at the cave. The rebels fired a volley into the clump of enemy soldiers, wounding several. The shots in the dark were not overly accurate, and the attackers received heavy return fire—then the Loyalists began acting confused. Some retreated while others charged their unseen antagonists. Sampson watched in horrified fascination as a Tory officer whose horse had been shot from under him bore down on her with an upraised sabre. Recalling her training of the past few weeks she lunged against the man’s right arm and diverted a potentially fatal blow from her throat to her forehead. She was momentarily stunned, then enraged, clubbing the man to the ground with her musket. She then followed the example of some of her comrades, swinging into the saddle of a riderless horse and pounding off in pursuit of the retreating Loyalists, catching up with them at the edge of a swamp.
Seeing the charging Patriots the enemy dashed off to either side, attempting to escape without bogging down in the mire. Disgusted, Sampson watched them flee in terror from armed foes. Now that they were facing battle-tested equals rather than the defenseless civilians they were accustomed to victimizing, the DeLancey troops showed their true, cowardly colors.
After the war, Sampson claimed that she was wounded in this engagement, but the details of where on her body she was wounded, and how she was treated for her wounds, remain unclear. Sampson also stated that she was treated for her wounds by a French Army surgeon. There is strong evidence that Sampson was indeed wounded during her army service, and it is possible that she was treated at a French Army camp located in the area.
There was still action in the offing despite Preliminary Articles of Peace being agreed upon between the United States and Great Britain in Paris on November 30, 1782. General Washington had declared in his official orders for October: “The readiest way to promote lasting and honorable peace is to be fully prepared vigorously to prosecute war.” Clearly, the general had not forgotten the powerful Loyalist force at nearby Worcester.
Sampson described being part of a scouting party sent on December 1st to reconnoiter the disputed turf outside Peekskill Hollow. Moving along a trail south of the town the Patriots were bushwhacked by Tory cavalry, but after scattering their assailants with a well-aimed volley they escaped with no casualties. The exhausted, chilled Continentals later stopped at a house owned by an old widow named Hunt, who claimed to be a rebel sympathizer. The old woman sent her slave George ostensibly for provisions for her guests. Sampson, who grew suspicious of the widow, whispered to her sergeant, “I think she’s sent George to trap us.” He agreed, and ordered his troops to depart despite their hostess’ loud protests.
The Patriots emerged from the house in time to see a large force of Redcoat cavalry pounding toward them, trapping them against the deep and swift Croton River. George saved them by showing them to a submerged sandbar where they could ford with their heads above water. Despite the shallower water, the current swept Sampson off her feet. She nearly drowned before grabbing a rope thrown from the opposite shore. Their wet uniforms froze to their bodies and they nearly succumbed to hypothermia before they found a general store. They crowded inside, drinking in the warmth and a cask of brandy they bought.
A last episode of combat was described by Sampson’s biographer, Herman Mann, who published her memoir in 1797, and later wrote an expanded manuscript. While much of this work is clearly “embellished,” it is based on Sampson’s own oral descriptions of what she experienced.
General Phillip Schuyler at Fort Edward, just north of Albany, New York, requested reinforcements to oppose the increasing depredations of the Iroquois Confederation. The Mohawk tribe had stepped up its attacks on Patriot forces and communities as the war appeared increasingly lost for England, and Sampson was part of an expedition to northernmost New York to assist Schuyler in this overlooked theater of operations.
Mann wrote that Sampson’s party encountered a blood-splattered settler staggering from a thicket, who then led them to a log cabin. In the cabin’s doorway was the corpse of the man’s wife hacked to death by tomahawks. His two little boys dangled by their heels from a tree in the front yard, also dead.
A grim-faced sergeant asked the bereaved father which way the assailants had gone. When the widower pointed to a nearby hill, the detachment set out as fast as they could. Cresting the rise they saw about 70 Mohawks around a large fire. The Americans charged and killed some of the warriors with their first volley. The Continentals, intent on allowing none to escape, resolutely closed with their quarry, killing 15, and capturing 20.
Over the next several weeks Sampson’s expedition surprised and captured more Mohawk marauders before returning to their regiment, encamped in New Windsor, New York in late January 1783.
Upon her return Sampson was selected to serve as an orderly to Brig. Gen. John Paterson. He had started the war as Colonel of the 1st Massachusetts Regiment, fought at Bunker Hill, and marched to Quebec with Benedict Arnold’s invasion of Canada in 1775. Returning to Washington’s command, he served at the battles of Trenton, Princeton, and later, Monmouth. In 1777 he commanded a brigade under Horatio Gates during the Saratoga campaign.
General Paterson selected Sampson for his “military family,” based on stories of her “heroism, fidelity, and military deportment.” She is believed to have served with him for as long as six months in 1783, first at New Windsor, and later at West Point, where he was occasionally put in temporary command of the fort.
Sampson’s exact role as an orderly for the general is unknown, but she may simply have been employed as a servant, or perhaps acted as a courier. In any case, staying at Paterson’s headquarters enabled her to avoid sleeping in a soldier’s hut with six or more other men. This would have made her deception easier to hide.
While serving with General Paterson, Sampson would have been present in the Continental encampment when hundreds of officers petitioned Congress for a redress of grievances over back pay, military pensions, and other concerns. Having stopped army pay in early 1782, and promising arrears would be made up at the conclusion of the war, Congress was now unable to find a way to raise the funds necessary to make good on this promise. For several weeks rumors ran through the army, led by a number of senior officers, including Horatio Gates, a longtime rival of Washington. Frustrated by Congress’s lack of support, these officers were threatening to refuse to disband the army once a peace treaty with Great Britain was verified.
This “rebellion” culminated in a meeting of several hundred officers addressed by General Washington on March 15, 1783. Not expecting him to attend the meeting, Washington surprised Gates and others when he appeared and asked to speak. He admonished the group, insisting they should oppose anyone who “wickedly attempts to open the floodgates of civil discord and deluge our rising empire in blood.” Washington held a letter he intended to read to the officers, and pulled a new pair of reading glasses out of a pocket. Pausing as he put them on, he said, “Gentlemen, you will permit me to put on my spectacles, for I have not only grown gray but almost blind in the service of my country.”
Surprised by the sight of Washington wearing reading glasses, many in the group understood that he had sacrificed as much, or more, than they had during the eight years of war. According to witnesses, some of those present were moved to tears by Washington’s comment and this officer’s rebellion was effectively over. General Knox, one of Washington’s most loyal officers who had refused to support the rebellion, agreed to work with other officers to find a suitable response to Congress. Within weeks Congress promised a compromise, agreeing to provide full pay to each officer for five years service in the form of government bonds.
Sampson would have been aware of these events because Paterson was a leading supporter of the officer’s petitions. As an enlisted soldier, she had nothing to gain in this campaign for back pay and pensions, but she would also have witnessed the increased frustration of the rank and file soldiers for the same lack of pay from Congress.
By late March news arrived that the peace treaty with Great Britain had been signed, and there was much celebration among the soldiers of all ranks for several days. While waiting for the British Army to evacuate New York City, the soldiers grew increasingly angry at not being paid for helping win their country’s freedom. In June, the Continental Army was officially furloughed, and Congress furnished soldiers with promissory notes for back pay. With no money for the long trip home, some soldiers were forced to sell their promissory notes to speculators at a lesser value in exchange for hard currency.
On June 14, Washington received news that several hundred Continental soldiers from Pennsylvania were involved in a mutiny near Philadelphia, and threatening Congress. He immediately dispatched 1,500 loyal soldiers from West Point to the tense City of Brotherly Love, with Paterson acting as a senior commander.
Sampson, still an orderly for Paterson, left West Point several days after the general. With the war concluded and much of the army already furloughed, Sampson might have returned home. But she chose to follow Paterson and by the time she arrived at the army camp outside the city, the insurgents had surrendered and the mutiny was over. For her, however, another kind of disaster awaited.
Paterson spent three months in Philadelphia, and presided over the courts-martial of two sergeants and several privates accused of organizing the Pennsylvania mutiny. The two sergeants were found guilty and sentenced to be hung, but were later pardoned by Congress.
Sampson may have served Paterson during her stay in Philadelphia, or moved about the city on her own, and at some point she contracted a fever. Smallpox, and measles were then ravaging the city, and likely the army camp, and she soon found herself a patient in a corpse-strewn hospital.
The Continental Army had established several hospitals in the city and at least one, managed by Army surgeon Dr. Barnabas Binney, was still operating in the summer of 1783. According to Sampson, Binney discovered her secret while she was there. He told no one except a nurse whom he ordered to take Sampson home with her and care for her there until she recovered. Recovering but still weak, Sampson was transferred to the Binney’s home to be looked after until her strength returned. That Sampson suffered a “violent illness” while in Philadelphia which led to her “unmasking,” was published in a newspaper article in 1784, and later confirmed by Munn, her drill sergeant.
It has been speculated that Binney alerted General Paterson to the discovery made regarding Sampson’s “masquerade.” According to this story, Binney gave Sampson a letter to deliver to Paterson in which he revealed her true gender. Sampson correctly guessed the contents of the letter, and delivered it with great anxiety, fearing military punishment for the deception. However, Paterson not only assured her there would be no charges against her, but made immediate arrangements for her honorable discharge and return to her family.
It appears other officers among Paterson military “family,” became aware of the unusual circumstances surrounding Private Shurtliff. With the war over, and with Sampson having proved her military worth in combat, and with faithful service, they were delighted in the deception.
By October 1783, Sampson was back at West Point, and discharged from the army on October 25, 1783, by Gen. Henry Knox. She was likely still at West Point on November 2 when the remainder of the Army was officially discharged and sent home.
Returning to Massachusetts, Sampson stayed for a while with her Uncle and Aunt Zebulon and Alice Waters in Stoughton, 18 miles west of Middleborough, until she felt ready to return to her mother, whom she feared would not forgive her abrupt departure.
Before long she went back to Middleborough and was gratefully reunited with her mother and community. In 1785 Sampson married Benjamin Gannett, Jr., a local farmer who had served briefly in the militia. The couple had several children, including a son who served as an officer during the War of 1812.
Life for a farming family in Massachusetts could be difficult, and in 1792 she successfully petitioned the state for back pay. In 1797, Sampson joined forces with newspaper publisher Herman Mann, who ghost wrote a “romanticized” account of Sampson’s wartime years, titled The Female Review: or, Memoirs of an American Young Lady.
In 1802 Sampson began a year-long lecture tour, the first woman to do so in America, speaking about her military service, and dressing in her old uniform. Many of the stories she told during these lectures were more fanciful than truthful, likely to the delight of her audience, and along with Mann’s book, some of these stories have muddled Sampson’s true story. In his book, Masquerade: The Life and Times of Deborah Sampson, Continental Soldier, historian Alfred F. Young did much to separate fact from fancy.
Regardless, Sampson was able to prove her service to the new American government and is the only woman of the Revolution to receive a full military pension. None other than Paul Revere helped her secure a pension of $4 per month, and in 1816 she received an additional amount of $78 per year.
When the remarkable Deborah Sampson-Gannett died at 68 on April 29, 1827, she was matriarch of a flock of 12 grandchildren.
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