Sunrise was masked by thick fog that hung shroudlike over the city of Philadelphia on September 11, 1777. Shortly before 8 o’clock that morning, the people who had gathered in tight knots in the streets, squares and around public buildings heard distant thunder. It lasted until nearly noon, then ceased. What had happened? Had this been the battle they had expected to be fought between General George Washington’s Continental Army and the British, who were marching on their city? A dispatch rider, his mount lathered, galloped through the thronged streets bearing one of the twice-daily dispatches Congress had instructed Washington to send. But no word filtered along the streets and alleys of the city. Later that afternoon, the thunder began again and lasted until after sunset. Still there was no news until almost midnight–and for Philadelphians who had joined the war for American independence, the report was not good.

The battle that was fought on that warm, foggy September day along Brandywine Creek southwest of Philadelphia had seemed inevitable. Washington and his British opponent, General Sir William Howe, had spent the spring ducking and dodging each other. Then Howe had loaded his regiments on a fleet of warships and transports and sailed from New York Harbor, clearing the sandbar off Sandy Hook on July 23. Sighted only briefly off the mouth of the Delaware Bay, the ships of the Royal Navy finally reappeared in the Chesapeake Bay. On August 25, Howe’s army began to disembark at the head of the bay, and on August 28 it started a slow, cautious march toward the rebel capital, Philadelphia.

The British reached the little Pennsylvania crossroads settlement of Kennett Square on September 10. As British, Hessian and Loyalist troops unhitched tired teams from the supply wagons loaded with rum, flour and salted meat and pitched camp, Howe learned that Washington had deployed his Continentals and Pennsylvania militia along the Brandywine, blocking the road to Philadelphia. The king’s commander in chief kept his staff up late that night, preparing for battle.

Howe’s plan was simple, elegant and risky–he would divide his army in half. One wing, under the Hessian Lt. Gen. Wilhelm von Knyphausen, would advance directly from Kennett Square to the main crossing of the Brandywine, Chadd’s Ford. His task was to engage the enemy as closely as possible, but only as a diversion. Meanwhile, the rest of the British army, with Howe and the talented Lord Charles Cornwallis in command, would march upstream, cross the Brandywine and sweep down the rebels’ right flank. The danger, of course, was that Washington might concentrate against each wing in turn and defeat, or at least cripple, the king’s army. But that was less risky than a frontal assault.

While the king’s men sat down to their rum and salt pork that evening, the Continentals camped along the Brandywine had the consolation of a sermon preached by the Reverend Joab Trout. ‘The doom of the British is near! intoned the minister to all who would listen. Most of the Continentals, though, were more interested in sleep. They had marched all morning and then spent the afternoon being jockeyed about as the generals deployed the army for the battle that all knew was coming.

Washington had posted his army at the last possible defensive position between the British and Philadelphia. Major General John Armstrong and the Pennsylvania militia held the left flank, covering a ford known as Pyle’s Ford (or Gibson’s, or any of a half dozen other names). On the heights overlooking the main crossing, Chadd’s Ford, stood the Continental divisions of Maj. Gen. Nathanael Greene and Brig. Gen. Anthony Wayne. A battery of Colonel Thomas Proctor’s Pennsylvania State Regiment of Artillery (which later became the 4th Continental Artillery) was entrenched on a hill covering Chadd’s Ford. In reserve were Maj. Gen. Adam Stephen’s division, the division commanded by Maj. Gen. William Alexander (who was known to friends and foes as Lord Stirling), and the North Carolina Line under Brig. Gen. Francis Nash. Holding the right flank, and ordered to defend a series of upstream fords, was a division of Continentals led by Maj. Gen. John Sullivan. Under the smiles of Providence, Washington wrote to Israel Putnam, we shall give them a repulse.

Shortly before 6 o’clock on the morning of September 11, Knyphausen’s column filed off toward Chadd’s Ford. During the next hour and a half the British advance guard was ambushed three times. When at last the king’s men neared a tangle of wooded hills, small streams and crisscrossing farm lanes adjoining the Brandywine, the Hessian general had had enough. He formed his brigades into line of battle, brought up his heavy 12-pounder guns and, at 8 a.m., launched a set-piece assault. It took more than two hours to push the rebels back to the far side of the Brandywine. Once the rebels were safely beyond Chadd’s Ford, Knyphausen ordered his men to ground their arms, sited his heavy guns and opened a barrage. The rebels returned the fire. The cannonade, which lasted until noon, was the morning thunder heard in Philadelphia.

The formation that delayed Knyphausen was the rebel army’s light corps commanded by Brig. Gen. William Maxwell, a hard-drinking (and often drunk) veteran of the French and Indian War. The corps, less than 800 strong, had been assembled only three weeks before, made up of detachments from each of the Continental brigades under Washington’s direct command and reinforced by a local militia regiment.

Howe’s column left Kennett Square between 4 and 5 a.m. Marching quickly, in spite of the 80 wagons (for the expected wounded) lumbering along behind them, the sweating British and Hessian troops made good time. Riding next to Cornwallis and Howe was a Pennsylvania Loyalist, Joseph Galloway, who knew the area intimately while another local Tory, Lewis Curtis, guided the advanced guard.

Only one small rebel patrol–with fewer than 100 men–was encountered. By 2 p.m., the British column had wheeled to the right, crossed both upper branches of the Brandywine and was closing in on the rebel flank. At 2:30 p.m. Howe called a halt to let the men eat their ration of salt pork and biscuits. It had been a most remarkable march for the British army–17 miles on a fog-shrouded, sweltering, blister-raising trek in nine hours.

While the troops rested, one of the advanced patrols of the Feldjägerkorps reported. To see for themselves what the Hessian riflemen had discovered, Howe and Cornwallis, mounted on fresh horses, rode forward to the crest of Osborne’s Hill. On the far side of the valley, deployed in ordered line of battle along the crest of a hill that had been plowed in preparation for planting winter wheat, 3,500 Continentals waited. Sir William had not anticipated such resistance at that point, but 8,000 men were in the woods behind him to deal with it.

Whatever their faults–and they had many–Howe and Cornwallis were superb tacticians. Instantly, orders were issued to form the battle line: the Brigade of Guards, two battalions, on the right; in the center, the British Grenadiers and light infantry and the Hessian Jägers; on the left, the 4th Brigade of the British Line; the Hessian Grenadier Brigade to support the Guards; the 3rd Brigade to the reserve.

Lieutenant Colonel William Meadows addressed his 1st Grenadiers: Grenadiers, for damned fighting and drinking I’ll match you against the world, he bellowed. His band struck up the British Grenadiers, then the drums tapped out the cadence, and the British battle line, bayonets gleaming, advanced–right into a Pennsylvania farmer’s split-rail fence. The battle line paused, some regiments climbing the fence, others pulling sections down. The 4th Brigade fell behind, and the Jägers cut in front of the Redcoats. A gap opened between the Guards and the 1st Light Infantry, which the observant Howe sent the Hessian Grenadiers forward to fill. Then the British broke free of the tangle of wood lots and farm fields covering Osborne’s Hill. It was almost 4 p.m.

Washington had been summoned from his headquarters by an alarm gun fired at 7 a.m. Surrounded by a flock of aides and generals, he listened to the fog-muffled sounds of gunfire from Proctor’s Battery overlooking Chadd’s Ford. One question preyed on his mind: Was Knyphausen’s advance a feint, or was it the main British thrust? Howe had a penchant for flank attacks. Would he make one this day? To guard his flanks, Washington had deployed almost all of his available cavalry under Colonel Theodorick Bland, with orders to keep the commander in chief informed of British moves. Patrols of Continentals guided by officers from the local militia regiment, the 8th Chester County and a detachment of 75 men from the Pennsylvania Line under Captain William Simpson had been sent out.

Upstream from the Continental Army’s main battle position, General Sullivan had posted one of his best units, the Delaware Regiment, to guard Brinton’s Ford. Still farther up the Brandywine, Sullivan had sent Colonel Moses Hazen’s regiment to watch two other fords. Officially Congress’ Own 2nd Canadian Regiment but better known as the Infernals, Hazen’s formation was made up of Canadians who had thrown in their lot with the rebels in 1775 and were now in exile along with a sprinkling of recruits from New York and Pennsylvania. Most of the officers and men were foreign born; many spoke no English.

No one thought it necessary to post troops any farther upstream. There were few crossing places, certainly none within striking distance of a slow-marching British army.

During the morning hours a steady stream of conflicting intelligence flowed in. A light cavalry major reported no enemy forces to the right. Hazen said the enemy was marching to outflank the army. Major Joseph Spear of the Chester County militia saw no sign of the enemy. From Lt. Col. James Ross of the Pennsylvania Line came a report that 6,000 British under Howe, with Joseph Galloway acting as a guide, were striking up the creek. Captain Simpson sent word via Colonel Ross that he had skirmished with the advance guard of a powerful British column. Sullivan’s aide, Major John Skye Eustace, swore during the court of inquiry held after the battle that Washington and the highly vaunted Brig. Gen. Henry Knox had laughed at him when he warned of British forces approaching their right flank.

By 11:15 Washington, at his wit’s end, ordered Bland to send a cavalry patrol under an intelligent, sensible officer to find out what, if anything, was happening on the right. He followed that with orders to Sullivan, Lord Stirling and Maxwell to make ready to cross the Brandywine and attack Knyphausen’s column. If Howe had indeed divided his army, perhaps it could be destroyed in detail. If not, perhaps some prodding could bring on a British attack.

Shortly before 2 p.m., a panting light dragoon delivered a dispatch from Sullivan. Washington read, Colo. Bland has this moment sent me word, that the Enemy are in the Rear of my Right, about two miles, [and] coming down. He also says he saw Dust Rise back in the country for about an hour. Bland included an estimate of the enemy strength–two brigades of light troops. Washington may also have received word of Howe’s march from a local squire, Thomas Cheyney. In any event, that authentic intelligence galvanized the commander in chief into action.

At about 2 p.m., Knyphausen’s staff noticed a curious movement on the hills beyond Chadd’s Ford–soldiers marching to the rebel right. They were the regiments of Stirling’s and Stephen’s divisions on their way to head off the flanking column. By 3 o’clock, they were deployed in an ordered line of battle on a hill near the Birmingham Meeting House, the field guns had been unlimbered and loaded, and skirmishers and light dragoons were probing for the enemy. Meanwhile, Washington had once more become indecisive. Would two divisions, perhaps 3,500 men, be enough to stop the British? Could he trust Stirling, a make-believe earl, and Stephen, a lying braggart, both of whom were known to be fond of the bottle? At 2:15, Washington sent an order to Sullivan, which was received at 2:30, to wheel his division about, link up with Stirling and Stephen, and assume overall command of the right wing.

The Maryland regiments of Sullivan’s division swung about, struck out upstream along the Brandywine and then cut sharply to the right, following a twisting, narrow farm lane. The leading regiment bumped into Hazen’s men hurrying to join the column, and the division lurched to a halt. Word was passed along the column to Sullivan: The British not only had flanked the rebel army, they were at hand. Orders ran back down the column: March on at the quick step, with Hazen in the lead. When the head of the column broke free of the trees and crested a low rise, Sullivan was at last able to see Stirling’s and Stephen’s troops on the plowed hill. To his chagrin, Sullivan found his division was a half mile to the left and in front of the other rebel formations. Sullivan spurred his horse and cantered off to confer with Stirling and Stephen and to order them to shift their men to the right to make room for his division on the hill. In command he left the 60-year-old Frenchman Brig. Gen. Phillipe Hubert de Prudhomme de Borre. It was 4 p.m.

Colonel Hazen, ignoring Sullivan’s and de Borre’s orders, swerved from the line of march. The other brigades followed a sunken lane toward the plowed hill. They were still a quarter of a mile in front of the nearest rebel troops–the New Jersey regiments of Stirling’s division under Colonel Elias Dayton–when they were suddenly attacked by the Brigade of Guards and the Hessian Grenadiers. In a matter of moments the 1st Maryland Brigade broke. Unable to deploy in the narrow confines of the sunken lane, the 2nd Maryland Brigade, from the colonels to the drummer boys, turned on their heels and ran. At the first glimpse of the bayonets of the Brigade of Guards, de Borre disappeared.

With fugitives swirling around them, Hazen’s 2nd Canadians continued their march toward the plowed hill until the Hessian Grenadiers struck their flank. Hazen’s regiment numbered between 350 and 400 officers and men, while there were three battalions of Hessians, each battalion roughly 430 strong. Nevertheless, Hazen’s troops formed into line of battle and met the enemy with steady volleys. When the New Jersey regiments opened fire, the Hessians fell back, allowing Hazen to link up with the left flank of Stirling’s division.

Sullivan was with Stephen and Stirling when his division fell apart. All he could do was direct Stirling to open fire with his artillery to cover the retreat while he and four aides rode off to try to rally the fugitives.

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