Tonight, we take a look at the very sombering story of Major Francis Halkett’s journey to the 1755 site of Edward Braddock’s defeat along the banks of the Monongahela River.
On July 9, 1755, 1,400 British Regulars and Colonial Provincials were attacked en route to capture Fort Duquesne by a contingent of French-Canadians and their Native American allies. In what became known as Braddock’s Defeat or the Battle of the Monongahela, nearly 900 members of the expedition were either killed, wounded, captured, or declared missing come nightfall as the mortally wounded Edward Braddock and what was left of his force limped back to Fort Cumberland. Among the dead left behind were the commanding officer of the 44th Regiment of Foot, Colonel Peter Halkett, and his son James who served as a lieutenant in his father’s unit. Amidst the chaos of combat the elder Halkett was gunned down by a concealed Indian and immediately his son rushed to his aid only to meet the same fate. They were two of sixty-three commissioned officers with Braddock to become casualties that tragic day.
Three years later another British force moved into the Ohio country to accomplish what Braddock could not. Under the overall command of General John Forbes, His Majesty’s forces were able to force the French out of Fort Duquesne and eventually out of the Ohio River Valley. Accompanying this expedition was another son of Colonel Halkett. Major Francis Halkett, attached to the 42nd Regiment of Foot, made it his mission to locate the site of his father and brother’s deaths to ascertain their fates. With a group of Native American guides, officers of his own regiment, and a company of Pennsylvania riflemen, Major Halkett returned to the battlefield. An account of the party’s search can be found in Winthrop Sargent’s The History of an Expedition Against Fort Du Quesne:
“Captain West [commanding the Pennsylvanians] and his companions proceeded through the woods and along the banks of the river, towards the scene of the battle. The Indians [many of whom had served with the French against Braddock] regarded the expedition as a religious rite, and guided the troops with awe and in profound silence. The soldiers were affected with sentiments not less serious, and they explored the bewildering labyrinths of those vast forests, their hearts were often melted with inexpressible sorrow; for they frequently found skeletons lying across the trunks of fallen trees – a mournful proof of their imaginations that the men who sat there had perished of hunger, in vainly attempting to find their way to the plantations. Sometimes their feelings were raised to the utmost pitch of horror by the sight of bones and skulls scattered on the ground – a certain indication that the bodies had been devoured by wild beasts; and in other places they saw the blackness of ashes among the relics – the tremendous evidence of atrocious rites … In reply to his [Halkett’s] anxious questions, one of his tawny guides had already told Halkett, that he recollected during the combat to have seen an officer fall beneath such a remarkable tree as he should have no difficulty in recognizing; and that at the same moment another rushing to his side was instantly shot down, and fell across his comrade’s body. As they drew near the spot, the detachment was halted, and the Indians peered about through the tree to recall their memories of the scene. With speaking gesture, they briefly discoursed in their own tongue. Suddenly and with a shrill cry, the Indian of whom we have spoken sprang to the well-remembered tree. While the troops rested on their arms in a circle around, he and his companions searched among the thick-fallen leaves. In a moment two gaunt skeletons were exposed lying together, the one upon the other, as they had died. The hand that tore away their scalps had not disturbed their position; but no sign remained to distinguish the relics from the hundred others that strewed the ground. At the moment Sir Peter [Francis] remembered him of a peculiar artificial tooth which his father bore. The bones were then separated, and an examination of those which lay undermost at once solved all doubts. ‘It is my father!’ exclaimed the unhappy youth, as he sunk into the arms of his scarce less affected friends … Brief and stern , as befits a soldier buried upon the battlefield, were the rites that followed. Wrapped in a Highland plaid, the twain who “in death were not divided,” were interred in a common grave. In lieu of solemn dirges and the passing bell, the rattling sounds of musketry awoke the long-slumbering echoes of the mountains as the customary volleys were fired above their breasts. As the chasm was being closed, a stone was brought from the hill-side and placed within its mouth.”[1]
As we are now amidst the 260th anniversary of Braddock’s march to Fort Duquesne, GTR History will be covering a wide variety of subjects regarding the expedition and the campaigns of 1755 in North America – all part of what was then an undeclared war between England and France that would ultimately decide the fate of the continent.
[1] Winthrop Sargent, The History of an Expedition Against Fort Du Quesne in 1755 (Philadelphia: Lippincott, Grebo & Co., for the Historical Society of Pennsylvania, 1856), 275-276.
"The Great Task Remaining" 