Lieutenant William Sutherland of the 38^th Foot was one of four British officers wounded during the gunfight at Concord’s North Bridge. Sources conflict somewhat on the severity of his wound. How bad was it?

The Records

In his report written within days of the fight [Murdock 1927, p21], Sutherland says of his wound:

“I received a shot a little above my right breast which turned me half around . . . I called to Capt. Laurie that I was wounded and came off the best way I could.”

So, Sutherland was hit in the chest and made a less than gallant retreat from the field. Crawling, perhaps.

How badly was he wounded? Sutherland says the wounded officers were “put into two one-horse chairs” for the return march to Boston. Presumably he meant himself included.

Ensign Jeremy Lister of the 10th, who fought beside Sutherland that day even though they belonged to different regiments, says in his 1780s memoir [Murdock 1931, p33] that after the retreat he found “Lt. Sunderland” waiting to be loaded into a boat with the rest of the wounded for the crossing from Charlestown to Boston:

“Lt. Sunderland complained very much I believe he was in violent pain and did not expect long to survive.”

Questioned at home by friends later that night, Lister says [Murdock 1931, p34]:

“I was ask’d whether I had seen Lt Sunderland of 38^th Regt when I reply’d I had and supposd by that time he was dead.”

Pressed on the issue, Lister added:

“I imagin’d from the situation he [Sutherland] appeard to me to be in when I saw him last and from his speeches, I suppos’d by that time he was no more.”

By contrast, Lieutenant Frederick Mackenzie’s report of wounded officers [French, p61] includes this line:

“38^th Lieut. Sutherland . . . Breast. Slight”

I couldn’t find any further references, but even these require some reconciliation. Mackenzie notes that Sutherland’s wound was “slight” while Lister’s account places Sutherland at death’s door. How can both be true?

The Analysis

Since Sutherland was able to write his own report within a few days of the fight, promoted to captain with months, and ultimately survived the war, we can conclude his wound was not as life threatening as Lister believed on the day.

That said, Lister was the one who saw Sutherland, while Mackenzie—the adjutant of the Royal Fusiliers—merely compiled a report about men he may have barely known. It’s possible that “slight” refers to wounds that would not cause lasting disability or keep an officer from active duty. Two marine officers—Lieuts. McDonald and Potter—received the same note. Remember, this is the army where, even today, broken legs are treated with aspirin.

So, what kind of chest wound causes violent pain, looks fatal, but results in little lasting injury?

It’s possible Sutherland played up his wound, or had difficulty bearing pain, but these options appear out of character for the veteran of the French War campaigns in Germany.

Some have suggested “a little above my right breast” meant a shoulder wound. This seems unlikely. Why would Sutherland describe his own wound as he did (vs. “I received a shot in the shoulder”)? Why would Lister think a shoulder wound would kill Sutherland before the night was out?

The lieutenant’s appearance and words convinced Lister he would die. Sutherland probably thought so himself.

At the time, neither thought Sutherland had a slight wound to the shoulder.

A Fitting Explanation

What if Sutherland had broken ribs?

If a musket ball became lodged in Sutherland’s upper ribcage, cracking or breaking bones, it would cause violent pain with every breath. Observers—even Mister Simms, the surgeon’s mate from the 43^rd Foot—might mistakenly assume a punctured lung, a lethal wound. A young non-doctor like Lister might easily deduce from the location of the wound and Sutherland’s suffering that the lieutenant did not have long to live.

Extract the ball with a pair of forceps, however, and both the pain and fear for Sutherland’s life quickly dissipate.

Sutherland would be sore for days but could write a report and soon resume his pre-adventure duties. Mackenzie, learning this, would be justified in writing that Sutherland’s wound was “slight”.

Sources:

French, Allen, A British Fusilier in Revolutionary Boston, 1926

Murdock, Harold, Late News of the Ravages, 1927

Murdock, Harold, The Concord Fight, 1931

No British officer features in retellings of the Lexington Fight more than Major John Pitcairn. How he is portrayed, however, has changed drastically over time.

For the first 100+ years, narratives depicted him as the villainous commander whose unprovoked order to “Fire! God damn you, fire!” precipitated a “very close, very heavy” fire that turned the running cold war into open hostilities.

These days, Pitcairn is more often cast as the anti-hero who “tried to stop the American Revolution” but was unhappily in command when the men under him “fired without orders.”

A review of the evidence suggests neither characterization is true.

Pitcairn the Villain?

With nearly every retelling through 1900, patriot narratives show Pitcairn riding across the common at the front of his troops, sword in hand, before ordering his men to fire “without provocation”. The fact that Pitcairn denied this deterred no one. In the words of historian J.D. Bell, Pitcairn was “the British officer that rural New Englanders loved to hate”.

Circumstantial evidence, however, suggests Major Edward Mitchell (not Pitcairn) ordered the regulars to open fire on the dispersing militia. For a discourse on that theory, see here.¹

If the provincials indeed named the wrong officer, then perhaps the 52-year-old marine and father of ten wasn’t the murderous villain everyone thought he was. But that doesn’t explain how he suddenly became the hero of the story.

Pitcairn the Hero?

Modern retellings have increasingly argued Pitcairn was an admirable man who did everything he could to prevent the Lexington fight, and by extension stave off the whole of the American Revolution. Several facts fuel this interpretation:

1. Pitcairn’s report to General Gage asserted he repeatedly ordered the soldiers to hold fire and that “four or five shots” from the rebels who jumped over the wall the light infantry “began a scattered fire . . . contrary to the repeated orders of both me and the officers who were present.”
2. Lt. William Sutherland’s report to Gage stated that Major Pitcairn shouted “Soldiers, don’t fire! Keep your ranks and form and surround them!” moments before firing broke out.
3. In his diary, Lt. John Barker of the King’s Own Light Infantry Company said that after one or two shots from the rebels, “our men, without any orders, rushed in, fired and put ’em to flight”.

In addition, contemporary historians cite (to me, anyway) evidence the Marine major was well respected by provincials:

1. Ezra Stiles famously called Pitcairn a “good man in a bad cause.”
2. Another story from the Shaw family, where Pitcairn quartered in Boston, has Pitcairn averting a duel between Shaw’s son and another officer.

All this supports the notion that Pitcairn was an honorable man who lost control of the men under his command.

Yes, But. . .

Other facts undermine the “Pitcairn the Anti-War Hero” narrative:

• While Pitcairn may have told his troops to hold their fire, many eyewitnesses reported the British commander immediately fired his own pistol, as did several other officers.
• John Munro Jr and Levi Harrington both stated the British commander (who they mistakenly called Smith) ordered the eight-soldier advance guard to fire a warning volley over the heads of the provincials.
• Not all these accounts came from provincials. Captured Private Samuel Lee told Reverend Gordon “it was the talk among the soldiers that Major Pitcairn fired his pistol then drew his sword and ordered the troops to fire”.
• According to Ensign Henry DeBerniere, Pitcairn ordered the light infantry to surround and disarm the rebels. Since the light infantry had their bayonets fixed (and we know they did because a bayonet killed Jonas Parker) the provincials could be forgiven for thinking they faced a bayonet charge.

All these orders came while Pitcairn was stationed by the meetinghouse, which places them before the rebel shots that British accounts say came after the light infantry crossed the field. So before Major Mitchell shouted “Fire! God damn you, fire!”, Pitcairn played the willing aggressor. (For a fully reconstructed timeline, see here.)

Should we excuse the commander for not foreseeing how the provincials would interpret his actions? Only if we are willing to label him incompetent, and incompetent men make poor heroes.

Also, None of The Provincials Really Knew Him

Claims that the provincials respected Pitcairn also ignore several facts:

1. Pitcairn arrived in Massachusetts with the marines in December 1774. On the day of the fight, he had only been in Boston four months.
2. In a February 1775 letter to the Earl of Sandwich, Pitcairn said, “I often wish to have orders to march to Cambridge and seize those impudent rascals that have the assurance to make such resolves. . . We have no orders to do what I wish to do, and what I think may easily be done, I mean to seize them all and send them to England.”
3. In March, he wrote the Earl, “I am satisfied that one active campaign, a smart action, and burning two or three of their towns, will set everything to rights.”
4. Also in the March letter, Pitcairn reported he “lived almost night and day amongst the men in their barracks for these five or six weeks past, on purpose to keep them from that pernicious rum.”

So, Pitcairn had only been in Boston for four months when the war broke out and, according to his own report, he spent at least a third of that time in the marine barracks. Assuming he spent most of the remainder with other officers, one has to wonder whether any of the provincials knew Pitcairn at all, much less well enough to judge his character.

One could argue that, at best, Pitcairn made a favorable first (superficial) impression with a few Massachusetts men. What would those men have thought of Pitcairn had they read his letters?

More importantly for modern historians, how might these additional facts have translated into Pitcairn’s actions on Lexington Common? His letters arguably show he shared the same views held by most officers: that Gage was too lenient, that the rebels would yield quickly to a harsh yet necessary action, etc.

So, if Pitcairn tried to prevent the revolution, he did so in the same manner as many other officers: By attempting to cow the provincials into submission through overwhelming force, which is precisely the strategy he employed on Lexington Common.

A strategy that, by the end of that day, had clearly backfired.

Sources:

Kehoe, Vincent, “We Were There!”: Compilation of most eyewitness accounts, including those cited: Major Pitcairn, Lt. Barker, and Lt. Sutherland, Ensign DeBerniere, John Munro Jr, Captain William Soutar.

Publications of the Navy Records Society, Vol LXIX, The Sandwich Papers, Vol I, p57-59

Levi Harrington’s account of the fight, transcribed by his son after his death, is available from the Lexington Historical Society.

Endnotes:

1. Some have argued the provincials misheard and no British officer ever gave the order to open fire never happened. Taking this view requires the rejection of a half dozen eyewitness accounts, including British Marine Captain William Soutar who said the “front company” [the 10th Light Infantry] immediately formed and fired in response to a shout from the leading company [the officers on horseback, among whom Major Mitchell held rank]. It also presumes the troops themselves executed a coordinated “close and heavy” that simultaneously killed and wounded a half-dozen militiamen along the length Parker’s line. ↩︎